


Mind Reader

by phanandvenus



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School, Love, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanandvenus/pseuds/phanandvenus
Summary: Dan's head was always filled with noise. He'd been blessed/cursed with the power to read minds, but not the power to control it. He heard the thoughts of everyone near him, and the constant voices in his head were close to driving him mad.That is, of course, until he met Phil Lester, the only one who could make his mind go silent.
Relationships: Chris Kendall/PJ Liguori, Dan Howell & Phil Lester, Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

Dan stared at the text on his phone for several minutes. It read Where are you? and it was from Pj, which could mean several things.

It could be that Pj was asking to make sure Dan wasn't anywhere important, then invite him over to watch old sci-fi flicks.

It could be that Dan was supposed to be somewhere with Pj right now and had forgotten about it. This was honestly the more likely of the two.

Like emotionally, or... he texted back. He bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for a response.

Pj simply texted back an address, and Dan realized with a jolt what was going on. He'd promised Pj he'd go to some party all of the popular kids were going to.

He couldn't think of a single thing he wanted to do less right now. He'd already holed up in his room for the night, absently filling up his sketchbook and tapping his foot to the music from his headphones.

He sighed and forced himself to stand, threw on his best pair of skinny jeans, and headed out to the main room.

His mom sat at the kitchen counter hunched over a book, her dark curly hair spooling over her shoulders. Two plates, one in front of her and one in front of the empty chair beside her, sat untouched.

"Hey, mom, I just remembered that I told Pj I'd go to a party with him, is that cool?" He asked, leaning into the counter across from her.

She didn't look up as she waved her hand. "Yeah, go, be a kid," she droned. 

Dan tapped his fingers on the marble, eyeing the plates in front of him. He felt like he should say something, try to make his mom feel better in some way. Day after day his dad came home hours after he said he would, but his mom still refused to eat without him.

'Stop staring at me, I'm not a charity case,' she thought, licking her finger to turn the page of her book.

Dan heard this and spun around, then rushed to the door. He grabbed the first pair of shoes he saw laying there: a pair of black trainers with a red stripe down the middle.

Oh god, not those shoes, his mom groaned in her head. He threw them back to the floor and pulled on some black chucks instead.

His mom looked up then and blinked in surprise. She pushed her chair back and met him at the door, evened out the strings of his hoodie, and ruffled his brown hair.

"I wish you'd keep it curly," she said, pushing his fringe out of his eyes.

"Not a chance, mom," he said with a smile. He opened the door and started down the hallway to the elevator.

'I love you,' she thought quietly.

"I love you too," he called back, then bit his tongue. She'd already closed the door, so she probably didn't hear it. 

He'd had this... whatever it was, power, blessing, curse, for nearly his whole life, and he still slipped up and responded to thoughts every once in a while. It was a ridiculously rookie move, and a sure-fire way to get tested on my scientists or dissected by aliens.

He needed to be more careful.

The thoughts of people in the apartments he passed meddled together as everyone talked at once. He could make out a word or two, but it was mostly just a buzz of pure noise bouncing around in his head. The farther he was from someone, the quieter their thoughts, but he was never truly far enough from everyone to hear silence.

He'd gotten used to it by now, but every once in a while the thought he'd never get any peace and quiet got to him. There was a cloud over his mind all the time, and he just wished it would clear up once in a while.

When he made it to the house, the party was already in full swing. He could feel the beat of the music from the porch, and when he opened the door it hit him like a wave.

Some terrible techno song was blaring, and people were shouting to hear each other over it. And, oh god, the sheer number of people in this room was astounding.

And the thoughts of each one of them were sounding in his head like sirens. His head was already beginning to throb, and he'd barely been there a few minutes.

He leaned against a wall, pulled out his phone, and shot a 'Where are you?' text to Pj. A full-on mosh pit bounced ahead of him, doused in electric blue light coming from the other side of the room.

Dan pressed himself harder into the wall. The noise at these things was bad, but the people were worse. Hundreds of sweaty bodies slowly closing in on you until they were crushing you, snapping your ribcage bone by bone and caving your lungs in like a human trash compactor.

It was third on the list of worst ways to go.

His phone vibrated, and he swiped to accept the call from Pj. "Hey, I'm here," he said into the receiver as soon as it clicked.

"What?" Pj's voice screamed out of the phone. "I can't hear you."

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but he jerked back as something crashed into the wall beside him. He turned to it, and some blonde dude was holding a girl to the wall by her shoulders. Her sparkly dress shone blue in the light. Their eyes locked like nothing else was in the room, no lights, no mosh pit, no one staring incredulously at them. They existed in their own little drunken planet of just them.

Dan looked away as the blonde leaned in to kiss her, and he scooted to the far side of the room. 

"Dan, are you there? I said it was in the kitchen," called Pj through the phone.

"Okay!" Dan yelled, not sure if it was loud enough to be heard over the screaming and music.

He stayed pressed to the wall as he skirted around the crowd to the kitchen doorway.

The overhead lights were on, but the blue from the living room shining in cast everything in a strange light. Pj sat on the counter with a beer in hand, leaning against the fridge and talking to some guy Dan had never seen before. 

He was swinging his green chucks, squeaking rubber on metal as he kicked the dishwasher.

"Dan, finally, you made it!" Said Pj, hopping down from the counter. He lunged forward to swallow Dan in an awkward hug but stumbled.

Dan caught him and held him at arm's length. He wasn't wasted, but he wasn't sober either. His sweaty hair was matted to his forehead and his cheeks were flushed. His green eyes had a distant sort of haze to them.

He looked happy, though. 

"Yeah, uh, yeah," mumbled Dan. Pj's thoughts were a jumbled mess, but Pj's thoughts were like that when he wasn't drunk. 

The other guy, however, was throwing Dan off. He couldn't hear every thought perfectly clear, what with the roaring in the other room, but of what he heard he didn't like the way that guy was thinking. His thoughts were slow and incomplete, a radio tuning in and out. There was something off about it.

That, and he didn't like how the guy was staring at Pj. Not once had he looked away since Dan had gotten there. He wasn't even sure the guy was blinking.

"Let's get out of here," he said quietly, but Pj had already pulled away and wasn't listening to him. 

Pj opened the fridge and started rummaging through it. "That's... what was it? Anyway, he's cool," he slurred to Dan, waving a hand in the direction of radio guy.

"Chris," he said, not turning away from Pj as he said it. 

"Pleasure," muttered Dan, trying to focus on Chris's thoughts. They were too hazy to make out, like there was a fog over his mind.

Dan reached out and grabbed Pj's arm, but he whirled around and pressed a bottle into Dan's hand. "Drink, you're too sober," he said.

"This is sparkling water, Pj." Dan grabbed his wrist. "Come on, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Let's go dance, come on, Christopher, let's go!" He yelled, grabbing Dan's wrist and pulling him into the thick of the party.

Being in the middle of it, his head roared louder than ever. People drunkenly knocked into him while dancing, and the stench of alcohol burned his nostrils.

"Pj, come on!" He yelled over the noise, pulling Pj out of the crowd and back into the kitchen. Chris was thankfully left behind.

"Dan, you're such a buzzkill," Pj groaned, reaching into the fridge for another drink.

"Pj, that creep was high as a kite. He's probably gonna get arrested for weed possession or some shit, and there's no way I'm letting you get roped in with him," said Dan. He plucked a can out of Pj's hand. "And stop drinking, who's gonna drive you home?"

Pj's flushed face turned a darker shade of red. "You're not my fucking mom, Daniel." He snatched the beer back and gulped it before Dan could grab it. "I don't know why I invited you, I'm finding Chris," he mumbled, pushing past Dan.

Dan grabbed his arm and whirled him around. "Pj, please listen to me. You're drunk and that guy is bad news, okay?"

"You're just jealous," Pj snarled, stepping closer to Dan. "You're scared you'll have to share your only friend."

Dan gaped at Pj. He'd seen his friend this drunk before, but never this angry. But he shook away the sting; this wasn't Pj talking.

"I care about you, that's why I'm trying to stop you," he said, but the words were sour in his mouth. Maybe he was jealous, or maybe just worried.

Dan had almost lost Pj to his last boyfriend, and he wasn't ready to face that again. His head pounded harder just thinking about it.

"How do you even know he's high, he looked fine to me," Pj fumed.

"He..." Dan started but quickly trailed off. He couldn't explain that Chris's thoughts were off. He couldn't tell anyone about this power/blessing/curse, not even his own best friend.

"Well?" 

Dan sighed and put a hand on Pj's shoulder like he could pull him out of his drunkenness. "Please just trust me, okay?" He stared into Pj's green eyes, willing him to agree.

A single thought rose above the screaming in Dan's head. 'Liar,' in a voice that was unmistakably Pj's.

His face said it too, but it was different hearing it. Dan let go of his shoulder and turned out of the kitchen. "Have fun, Pj," he said, looking back one last time.

Pj didn't look at him as he charged back into the mosh pit to find Chris. Dan pushed his way through the people and out the door. He thought he could use some fresh air.

"Not quite your scene, huh?" Dan jumped and whirled around to the voice. There stood Phil, leaning against the wall of the house, a bottle clutched in his hand. His black hair almost brushed the roof, and the bottle thwacked the gutter as he tipped it back.

"No, not really," said Dan. His mind was still reeling from the argument he'd just had, and he didn't know what else to do, so he leaned against the wall next to Phil.

Phil offered him the bottle. He took a sip and tried not to cringe as the liquid burned down his throat. 

The music blared dully through the walls, and the beat thumped through the floorboards like a headache. The shouting and laughter from inside were muffled, and thankfully so were the thoughts of everyone in there. His skull felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly, but at least the knife wasn't as sharp as it was inside.

"I only come to these things for the alcohol," said Phil to the air. His breath puffed white in the cold.

Dan couldn't think of a response, so he just nodded. The street he faced was empty, there was trash in the grass on either side, and the flickering streetlights cast the road in a rusted gold color. Did gold rust?

"Why did you come? I've never seen you at a party before," he asked. He took another swig and smacked the roof with the butt of the glass.

"Do you look for me at parties?" Dan shot back before he could stop himself. One of the most popular guys at school was being nice to him for once, he should hold his tongue.

Phil's voice rose above the chatter in Dan's head. 'Only when I'm really drunk.; "Of course not, I was just asking," he said. He threw the empty bottle, and it shattered a few yards from the street. "I'm getting another beer, want one?"

Dan nodded mechanically. After years of hearing people's thoughts, he'd gotten good at not reacting to them. But this one struck him. Not like lightning, but like a staticky doorknob. It was just... odd.

He watched Phil disappear through the front door. A car rumbled by. Crickets chirped and toads bellowed. The front door opened, and Phil reappeared with two cans and a smear of red across his cheek.

"Whatcha got there?" He asked, gesturing to the lipstick stain.

Phil smirked as he handed Dan a beer. "Jealous?" He said under his breath.

The word was so soft that Dan almost missed it. He probably would've if Phil hadn't been thinking the same thing.

He cringed as he imagined Pj saying it, but shook the thought away as soon as it came. 

He quickly opened the beer and took a drink, hoping it would erase his memory of the fight inside.

They sat on the porch, and it creaked every time one of them shifted. Phil drained his drink in seconds, and Dan choked down as much of the vile liquid as he could stand. He didn't understand why people drank this stuff.

He hoped it would pay off in the end, that being drunk was at least a nice feeling. Maybe Pj was on to something with the early alcoholism.

Phil leaned over and grabbed a small rock from the landscape beside him. He tossed it between his hands a few times, making a high arc with the stone.

Without warning, he tossed it Dan's way. 'Think fast,' he thought, as Dan dropped the can he was holding and shot his hands in front of him. He deflected the rock but didn't catch it.

"What the hell, man?" He asked as his beer pooled on the porch. Phil was leaning over the flower bed again, and when he sat up he clutched two rocks. 

He held one out to Dan. "I bet I can throw farther than you," he said. He was deadly serious, as if he'd asked Dan to duel for a kingdom or something like that. 

Dan tried to focus on Phil's thoughts, but they blurred into the background of the party. The more he tried to focus, the louder the roar of the crowd inside echoed through his brain.

What was Phil playing at? The most popular guy in school, the top rung of the social ladder, never asked a guy like Dan to a rock-throwing contest without some ulterior motive.

Or maybe he was just really drunk. "I've never played a sport in my life," he said finally, taking the rock from Phil.

"Me neither, it's even." Phil pushes himself to his feet, cocked his arm back, and launched the rock into the darkness. It bounced on the road ahead of them and skittered into the ditch on the other side.

"Pff, I can beat that," said Dan. He stood, and suddenly the porch beneath him seemed to sway. He stumbled forward, his head spinning.

Phil's grip was on his shoulders, his fingers digging through the fabric of Dan's hoodie. The yellow shine of the street lamps reflected off of Phil's black hair, kind of like the feathers of a crow. 

"Okay, maybe let's sit down for a bit. We can have a rematch when you're sober," said Phil, guiding Dan back to a seat on the steps.

Something about the concern Phil's eyes shocked him. It looked genuine, and guys like Phil weren't supposed to be genuinely concerned about guys like Dan. He couldn't count the number of black eyes he'd gotten from Phil's friends, the number of threats and slurs thrown at him. Why was Phil different?

Something else shocked Dan about Phil's eyes. They were the softest shade of blue he'd ever seen. He swore he could almost see flecks of green and gold around the middle, but that could be the alcohol playing tricks on him. Either way, he could stare at those eyes forever, like a kid looking through a kaleidoscope for the first time.

He had to admit, he didn't hate the fuzzy feeling. The thoughts of the people inside his head weren't any quieter, but Dan felt... calmer? Happier? 

Whatever it was, it made the power/blessing/curse a bit more bearable. 

Phil seemed to remember he was still clutching Dan's shoulders and jerked his hands away. Pink flushed his cheeks, and Dan couldn't help but think about how nice the color went with the blue in his eyes. 

"You feeling okay?" He asked, staring down at his shoes.

"Yeah, just kind of..." Dan trailed off, not sure what to say. He tried as hard as he could to focus on Phil's thoughts, but the alcohol seemed to muddle all the voices in his head. Maybe that's why it was easier to deal with.

Just then someone crashed through the front door, stumbling the wall beside him with a thud. His laugh reverberated through the silence of the empty street.

"C'mon Phil," he slurred, grabbing Phil's collar and dragging him to stand. "I got a curfew to make."

"And your parents won't care if you come home blackout?" Asked Phil, standing and following a stumbling Chris down the driveway, arms out as if to catch him if he fell.

"Not if it's before eleven."

They disappeared behind some trees, and the sputtering of an old engine rang into the night.

That bastard left Pj all alone at the party. A sick sort of joy filled him. He was right, and that proved it.

He forced the feeling of pride away as soon as it surfaced. Pj was his friend, and he was probably hurting in there, and he needed to go find him. 

Dan pushed himself to his feet and immediately lost his balance. He caught himself on the doorframe behind him and pressed his fingers to his temple to quell his headache.

"Whoa there, take it easy," Phil said, suddenly back on the porch.

"I thought your friend had a curfew," said Dan, leaning on the door.

"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," he said, solemn as ever. He held out his hand to Dan, and Dan took it shakily. "I had fun, Howell. We should do this again."

In his drunken state, Dan was aware of two things. One, Phil's hands were so warm. He didn't realize how cold it was outside until then.

And two, all of the voices in his head had gone completely silent. He could hear the thump of the music inside so clearly now, and the crickets chirping in the distance, and the whirring of cars from the nearest main road.

He'd never heard so much silence before. It was breathtaking, like seeing the stars without any light pollution for the first time. Everything was so clear when it wasn't strained through the filter of all the thoughts in his head.

And then Phil let go, and it all crashed back at once. The wave of noise knocked the air from his chest and sent his head reeling, and he stumbled back.

"You okay?" Asked Phil. He didn't reach out to help Dan this time, and Dan couldn't blame him.

Imagine watching someone be this affected by a simple handshake.

"Head rush, sorry. I guess I'm drunker than I thought I was." He shook his head, trying to shake away the drowsiness. It was fun at first, but he just wanted to think clearly so he could process what had just happened.

Phil smiled and patted Dan on the shoulder. "See ya around," he said, and then he disappeared to wherever they'd parked. 

Dan watched their car pass in front of the house and turn down the bending road.

Whenever you saw the stars, just candles didn't cut it anymore. And Dan had heard the clearest silence he'd ever heard whenever his skin touched Phil's.

And Dan wanted to hear it again.


	2. Chapter 2

Dan tapped his pen on the desk as he stared at the blank sheet of his sketchbook. Every once in awhile he clicked it open and pressed the tip to the page, but ultimately went back to tapping it mindlessly.

Maybe he should've been a drummer and not an artist.

His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it from the table as quickly as he could, fumbling to type in his password.

The buzz was not a text from Pj. He threw the phone back down and clicked open his pen.

And then he started scribbling. He scratched the pen across the whole sheet, furiously digging into the paper.

The page behind it would be indented, and the ink would probably bleed through and ruin his other works, but he didn't care right now.

He'd walked home from the party scheming of ways to touch Phil without it being weird and without revealing his abilities. It wasn't until he was home that he remembered Pj was alone inside.

Pj didn't answer when Dan called him that night. He didn't answer any of the fifty texts he's sent since then. From Friday night to Sunday night Dan had done nothing but text Pj and wait for a reply.

And no reply ever came. They'd have to face each other at school tomorrow, and Dan couldn't stand the idea of seeing Pj angry again.

The entire page was scribbled through, and the side of Dan's hand was stained with ink all the way down his forearm. He chucked the pen and sketchbook across the room, relishing the sound of them crashing into the wall.

The book landed open with the pages down. He groaned as he walked over to scoop the book off the floor. He already ruined a page or two, he didn't want the whole thing to crease.

He set it down gently on his desk and threw his copy of The Chronicles of Narnia on top of it to straighten the pages.

He grabbed his phone and collapsed onto his bed, doing his best to untangle his earbuds with one hand as he scrolled through music with the other.

He found the song he was looking for. "Butterflies and Hurricanes" by Muse. He closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him, flooding out everything else.

There was still chatter in his head. His mom was downstairs, the walls were thin and he had neighbors on the other side of them.

But as he cranked up the volume, so loud that the noise outside his head was completely drowned out, he was the closest to silence he could ever get.

Until he met Phil, at least.

He sighed as the final chord tapered out. His phone buzzed just then, and he frantically opened the message.

It wasn't from Pj. It was from an unknown number, but it didn't take long to figure out who it was from.

This is Phil, it read. Got your number from a friend, meet me in the school parking lot.

Dan stared at the screen numbly for a moment. He didn't really want to deal with Phil right now, not when his best friend wouldn't even talk to him.

He glanced over at the sketchbook on his desk. He didn't have anything else to do, and maybe it would be good to distract himself for a while.

No way, he couldn't think like that. Phil's friends were assholes, the kinds that shoved you into lockers and wrote the word "Fag" in black sharpie backward on your forehead so you could read it when you looked in the mirror. Whatever Phil wanted with him, it was bad news, and he should stay away.

But the other night he wasn't anything like his friends. He'd been kind, and if Dan thought about it, it was never Phil that beat him up in middle school. 

Then there was the glaring point. Silence. The thing that taunted Dan, just out of reach no matter how loud he played his music. The constant roar in his head was this insufferable thing he could never escape. And after having a taste of life without it, he was hooked. He needed to hear it again. 

That, and Phil's eyes were a really nice color. He needed to make a mental note to find paint in that color.

See you in five, he texted back.

He grabbed his jacket and tiptoed out of his room. His mom didn't look up from her untouched plate as he threw on his shoes and slipped out the door.

There was only one car in the school parking lot, and Phil sat in the trunk with the hatch popped up. He waved Dan over to sit, but he stayed standing a few feet away from the car.

He had one of those cars with the huge trunk that opened into the rest of the car, which probably meant money. Dan couldn't decide if that was a good or bad sign.

And he wasn't just going to get in a stranger's car. He hadn't even been offered candy yet.

'You can't do this to me,' Phil screamed in his head. Dan jumped at the thought and searched Phil's face.

His features were calm, his blue eyes sleepy and lazy, and the ghost of a smile was on his lips. Dan wasn't doing anything, so what did he mean?

"You okay? You look... scared," said Phil. "I'm not going to kidnap you or anything," he added on hastily.

Dan shook his head to snap himself out of whatever face he was making. He could've imagined it, or maybe he'd misheard Phil's thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry," he muttered, sitting next to Phil in the back of the car. It was warmer than normal for this time of year, and an overcast of dark clouds blocked out the stars.

'I don't care, I can't lose her,' Phil thought, but it was a different voice talking. Dan whipped his gaze to Phil, eyes wide.

"Are you high or something? Cause it's cool if you are, I just want to know," said Phil with his hands up as if to protect himself.

"No, I'm fine, just—" he started but trailed off when Phil's voice rang out in his head. 'I swear to God, I'll never forgive you.'

Whatever fight Phil was replaying in his head, Dan didn't want to hear it. Knowing someone's most personal secrets, picking up parts of them they don't want to share, it was the worst. It was hard to look someone the same way after that, and if you looked at them differently, they'd know something was up.

Without thinking, Dan grabbed Phil's hand. The screaming match stopped. Dan let out a sigh of relief.

And then he realized Phil was staring at him, eyes wide. He looked scared, but he wasn't moving away. He was a deer caught in headlights, and right now, Dan was a truck barreling down the highway.

Dan's impulse was to pull away, but he couldn't let go without finding out Phil's secrets. This was the first time he had the option to not eavesdrop on someone's brain. He hated the weight of knowing so many things people didn't want him to know.

"Dan, what's going on?" Phil asked, his voice shaking. 

"I can't explain what's going on right now, but I can't let go of your hand, I'm sorry," Dan sputtered. His mind, his completely silent mind, was reeling with excuses to explain away this whole mess.

But he couldn't think of any.

Phil's eyes flicked down to their entwined hands, and Dan couldn't help but think about the scars that lined his wrist. He couldn't tell in the dark if his sleeve was covering them all, and the thought of Phil seeing them was terrifying.

"Look," Phil stammered. "If you're in trouble we can get help. I have my phone, there's the suicide hotline—"

"No! No, I'm fine I promise," blurted Dan. It was true, he was fine. He'd been taking antidepressants for years now, and the scars felt like they were from another lifetime. They were faded, and when he tanned they didn't even show, but he still couldn't bring himself to wear short sleeves. 

"Okay," said Phil, the relief in his voice palpable. Dan silently thanked whatever was out there that Phil didn't question him further.

These were Dan's secrets, and he was as intent on protecting them as he was on protecting Phil's.

Phil pulled away suddenly, but his thoughts were too rushed and all over the place for Dan to piece anything together.

"Dan, I really don't know what's going on," he said, shaking his head at his feet.

"What do you mean?" Asked Dan. But he knew even without hearing Phil's thoughts clearly. Phil thought Dan was insane or on drugs, and he regretted inviting Dan here. End of story.

Tentatively, Phil reached and gently laced his finger's through Dan's. Instantly, the whirring of Phil's head was hushed.

Phil looked down at his feet, kicking up little rocks that skittered across the pavement. "You don't have to explain the hand holding thing. But can I ask why you agreed to come here?" 

Dan stared at their interlaced fingers for a moment. He still couldn't believe it, having a head all to himself. Blissful was the best word for that kind of relief, a weight on his shoulders that was finally gone. 

He glanced up at Phil, who was still looking at him funny, but looked like he was softening a bit. 

"I needed a distraction," he said softly. The entire time he'd been here he hadn't thought about Pj, so he guessed it was a success.

"Funny, that's why I asked you," Phil said with a dry laugh. He squeezed Dan's hand then, and Dan squeezed back as a reflex.

Phil smiled and turned his gaze from his shoes to Dan. "Would you like to talk about whatever's plaguing you?"

There was so much plaguing him. He and Pj had fought and now they weren't talking. But there was also that it was Phil's friend that had abandoned Pj, and being with his friend's enemy's friend felt like a betrayal. There was his overprotectiveness of Pj after the fiasco that was his last boyfriend. 

Phil stared at him with wide eyes that Dan couldn't quite read. He decided that after all of that he didn't want to get into everything.

"No, do you?" 

"No."

They sat in silence for a while. Dan stared up at the sky, wishing he could see through the clouds into the stars. At the age of ten, he learned those National Geographic pictures of the sky weren't photoshopped, and that for most of human history you could look up and just see the Milky Way.

Even though the city blocked the night sky from him, it was childishly comforting to know that the stars were still there. Behind clouds, behind layers of smog and street lights.

He didn't deserve them though. He stole secrets, and the city stole his stars. Fair trade.

"Whale," said Phil, peering up into the clouds.

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"That one's shaped like a whale," said Phil, pointing up to one of the gray clouds with his free hand.

Dan laughed, and Phil squeezed his hand again. Somehow Phil's head fell on Dan's shoulder, and Dan didn't push him away. His breath was warm against Dan's neck, and Dan could feel his heartbeat where they were pressed together.

Dan's heart was beating a mile a minute. He hoped that Phil couldn't hear it.

Phil mumbled something, and for a moment Dan had a small heart attack, but when he looked down Phil's eyes were closed and fluttering in sleep.

He couldn't believe that Phil had fallen asleep on his shoulder like that. Dan couldn't imagine being that vulnerable with someone he'd just met. He shrugged gently, but Phil didn't wake, so he stared up at the gray sky for a while, relishing the silence in his head. 

As carefully as possible, he pushed Phil off his shoulder and laid him down. Dan held his breath as Phil stirred, and sighed when he stayed sleeping.

From this angle, Dan noticed a bruise blooming on his jaw, a dark purple shade. He couldn't help but stare at it for a while. It looked foreign on Phil's face; he was used to seeing a bright smile, or recently a look of fear, but the dark splotch still looked out of place.

He sat and listened to the half coherent thoughts passing through his head. No one's thoughts were understandable while they slept, and no one's dreams had ever revealed anything horrible to him.

He couldn't tell what Phil was dreaming about, but it sounded like it was something nice. He was glad the fight he'd overheard didn't follow Phil into his dreams. 

It felt wrong to leave Phil alone and unconscious in the back of his car, so he didn't. The night turned cold as he sat guard, but he decided it was worth it. He'd shiver if it meant keeping Phil safe.

So he leaned against the side of the trunk watched the clouds pass by. As time drifted on, they started to clear, and Dan could see the stars through them.


	3. Chapter 3

“Wake up," said a voice, shaking Dan's shoulders and pulling him out of the depths of sleep.

Dan groaned and rolled over, mumbling incoherently and blocking his face from the light with his hand. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he jumped with a start when he saw Phil standing over him.

His dark hair was mussed from sleep, and his normally bright eyes were tired and bloodshot. The sky bled orange behind him, and a few more cars were scattered in the parking lot, their windshields reflecting the sunrise.

"Look alive, sunshine," he said with a smirk, offering Dan his hand. "We better get going before anyone see us out here." He pulled Dan to his feet, who was still trying to blink away the haze of unconsciousness.

When Phil let go of his hand, Dan unmistakably heard something else. 'Or Chris,' he thought quietly.

Dan yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "Do you do this often? Lure unsuspecting victims out to your car in the dead of night for a slumber party?"

"Only on Sundays," said Phil with a wink. He messed with the cuffs of his flannel, trying to button them with tired hands.

Dan had absolutely no clue what state he was in. He could look like a dumpster fire, or his Hobbit hair could've snuck up on him while he was sleeping, or, god forbid, he could've been drooling in his sleep.

He wiped at his face frantically while Phil wasn't looking. 

Phil walked over and shut the back of the car just as one of the busses pulled into the parking lot. "Thanks for meeting me, Howell, but we better get going. School starts in half an hour."

"Shit!" Said Dan, smacking himself in the head. "I didn't bring my stuff with me last night." He didn't know he wasn't gonna go home.

And on top of that, his mom was probably going into his room to wake him up right this second.

"How close do you live?" Phil asked, already heading to the front seat of the car. "We could swing by and grab your things."

"No it's fine," Dan said. The sky was already shifting to the baby blue of morning, the sun peeking up from behind the school building. He didn't want to make them both late for school.

Dan was already a lost cause, getting Cs in most of his classes, but Phil wasn't like that. He had bigger things ahead of him, and bigger things meant college.

"I swear to god, just get in the car Howell," Phil yelled out the window. He honked once for good measure, and with that Dan decided to hop in the passenger seat.

He hadn't noticed it the night before, but Phil's car smelled like cherry. A little pink tree hung from his rearview mirror, along with a lanyard holding his student id.

And holy hell Phil looked perfect in his student id picture. It was incomprehensible just how photogenic this man was.

Phil put his hand on Dan's seat, twisting around as he backed out of the parking lot. Dan tried not to flinch away from it. He couldn't help but stare at the shape of Phil's neck as he twisted to see out the back window.

What was getting into Dan?

"What about your stuff?" Dan asked to distract himself from staring.

"Brought it."

The car was silent as Phil turned back around and put the car in drive, maneuvering over the speed bumps out of the parking lot. Dan prayed that it was only him that felt the tension and that everything was actually fine.

"So, last night," Phil said once they were on the main road. Shit, there was tension. Passing out in a trunk with someone was a strange kind of intimacy. How do you navigate that?

Phil switched lanes too quickly and without even bothering to look in his mirror, throwing Dan toward the center console.

"Yeah, last night," parroted, trying to buckle his seatbelt without drawing attention to it.

"Can we keep it on the down-low?" 'Please don't let it get out,' his mind pleaded.

"Turn left here," said Dan, jarred by Phil's thoughts. The car swerved and Dan hit the door with his shoulder, a dull ache erupting there.

"Of course," he said finally. He didn't know what he'd expected from Phil, but this was disappointing for some reason.

He glanced over at Phil, whose knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Then his eyes were drawn to the dark splotch across his jaw, now a darker shade of purple than it has been last night.

Somehow Dan felt that the two things were related. "Right here," he said, bracing himself for the turn.

Apartment buildings towered around them, with brick peaking through cracks in the yellowing walls that used to be white. The windows and fire escapes were the same shade of rust, so old they looked like they'd crumble any day now. 

He forgot about where he lived. He might not have agreed to this if he'd remembered.

Damn, Phil thought, and that summed it up nicely.

"It's that one," Dan mumbled, pointing to the empty driveway. Either his dad had already left for work, or he never came home last night. 

"Great, see you in a few," said Phil, clearly trying not to stare at the crumbling buildings.

Dan reached for the door handle, but hesitated. "Not to pry, but that bruise on your face looks pretty bad. I can bring you some makeup if you want me too." He didn't meet Phil's eyes as he said it, but he watched Phil's hand immediately go to cover it.

"Thanks, but I'm good," he said, offering a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Dan just nodded, then left the car.

To his surprise, his mom wasn't there. He hadn't gotten any texts from his parents yet, so he could only assume they didn't notice his absence. 

He grabbed his stuff and quickly ran a straightener over his hair, threw on a different black hoodie, then ran out to meet Phil.

They drove back to the school in silence, and ran inside just before the final bell rang.

The cafeteria was as crowded as any other day, and the voices in Dan's mind were as loud as any day, but they left his head throbbing worse than before. It was like he was having withdrawal from the silence that Phil gave him.

If he were braver he'd track Phil down and hold his hand like they had in the parking lot last night, but he couldn't do that.

First, he wasn't brave. And second, Phil didn't want to be seen with him.

So Dan headed over to his normal table by the windows and pulled his sketchbook out of his bag.

He didn't think as he grabbed a pencil and started scratching at the paper. He wasn't capable of thinking, not with the chaos of the cafeteria around him coupled with the chaos in his head.

After a while his wrist started to ache, so he set down his pencil and shook it out. It was only then when he looked down at the paper in his hand that he realized he'd been drawing Phil.

It was him on the porch the first night they'd met, beer bottle in one hand and launching a rock as hard as he could with the other. Phil's face was in profile, but you could still see how wide the smile on his face was.

Dan glanced up and saw Pj coming toward the table. He slammed the sketchbook shut and shoved it into his bag just as Pj dropped his back pack and fell into the chair beside him.

"Drawing French girls, are we Jack?" He asked, smirking as he nudged Dan with his shoulder.

"You look like hell," Dan replied, and it was true. Dark circles ballooned around his hazed eyes, and his skin was sallow.

"You don't look too bad yourself, considering you spent the night camped out in the parking lot with one Mister Phil Lester." Pj nonchalantly pulled a shiny red apple out of his backpack and took a bite.

As if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on Dan.

"Holy shit, tell me people don't know about that," said Dan, pressing his hands to his forehead. The throbbing in his head amped up to ten at the thought of it.

What if Phil never talked to him again? What if he lost his only source of silence?

He looked to Pj, searching for a lifeline to save him. 'Oh shit,' Pj thought, which didn't give Dan anything to grab onto. What the hell did Oh Shit even mean?

"No, just me, chill out," Pj said, an anxious kind of laugh tagged onto the end. Shit, this is serious, he thought as he clasped Dan's shoulder to calm him down.

"Oh my god," Dan sighed, shoving Pj's hand away. "Don't scare me like that."

"I won't next time." He gave a sorry sort of smile, and it looked pretty real to Dan. Great, now even Pj though he was a basket case.

"Wait, how did you know about that?"

"I had to come in early for an art project, and I saw you in the parking lot." He rested his hand under his chin and winked. "That's why I look like hell today."

"Okay, that means no one else saw," Dan said, his hammering heart finally taking a small break.

"Not quite. Some teachers definitely saw you, and they're definitely gonna have a chat with you."

As if on cue, Mrs. Kendall, the school counselor, was walking toward them. Her high heels clicked on the linoleum like a ticking time-bomb.

"Mr. Howell, I'd like you to come see me in my office as soon as you're finished with lunch." Without another word, she pushed her cat-eye glasses high on her nose and whirled away.

"God, she's dramatic," said Pj. He took another bite from his apple.

"Yeah, she is. Hey, why weren't you texting me back all weekend?" He'd almost forgotten about that with everything else going on, but his voice caught slightly as he asked it.

"I came home wasted Friday night, I'm grounded." Pj laughed, then stopped when he saw how horrified Dan was. "You didn't think I was ignoring you, did you?"

Dan let out a laugh that sounded fake even to him. "Of course not." But of course he had. "I should probably get this over with, see you!"

He grabbed this backpack and practically ran down to the counselor's office, the voices in his head from the cafeteria fading as he got farther from it.

Phil was already in the office when Dan arrived, knees crammed up against the bottom of the table he sat at. His posture was perfect, and the rest of his features were just as stiff. His skin was washed out in the beige walls and flickering fluorescent lights.

"Hey," Dan whispered as he sat down. "We have to have that rock-throwing contest later." He didn't like seeing Phil so serious, and he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Phil's lips curved but it wasn't a smile, not really. His eyes were fixated on the little bird toy dipping into a glass of water, righting itself, then dipping back into it. The seconds ticked by with the little splashes of its drinking.

Soon enough the counselor, Mrs. Kendall, waltzed up to sit across from them. Thank god the floor was carpeted, Dan thought he might explode at the horrible clicking of her heels again.

"So, I'm sure you're aware of why I brought you in here today," she said, perfectly polite and cordial with her plum-colored lipstick. Degenerates, she sneered in her mind.

"Look," Phil cut in before she could say anything else. "I know when you find two kids asleep in the trunk of a car, you assume the worst, but I promise it wasn't anything like that."

She glared at him over the top of her glasses. "Is that so, Mr. Lester?"

"I got in a fight at home, and this was the only place I could think to come." He said it too quickly, stumbling over the words as they came, and his face flushed as stuck out his jaw to show the bruise to her.

Dan tried not to look shocked. He should've known, he'd seen the bruise right after Phil had gotten it. Where else would he have been beaten up that late on a Sunday evening?

"If there's abuse going on in your home, I'm afraid I'm going to have to alert the authorities." Phil opened his mouth to object, but she held up a finger to silence him. "But first, why was Mr. Howell with you?"

"I wanted to make sure he was okay," he said, trying to ignore the shake in his voice. This felt like an interrogation, not a counselor trying to make sure her students were safe.

'Don't screw this up,' Phil thought, and Dan swallowed down his anxiety. He could feel his palms shaking, and he willed them to stop.

Something felt off, but he couldn't figure out what it was. 

"And you stayed the night?"

"We fell asleep, it was late."

'Sure, faggot,' she scowled in her thoughts.

Dan flinched, shrinking back into his hair.He couldn't even register he'd heard it for a second, but it was unmistakeable. This woman didn't care about their safety or whatever she was pretending to do, she was just filled with hatred and trying to punish them for it.

Her gaze didn't change, she just kept her gaze fixated on him. "Is that so?" She said coolly, as if she hadn't thought what she'd thought.

"You know what?" Dan snapped, balling his shaking fists. "You don't get to torture us like this. Did we break any rules? Punish us. Are you concerned about us? Call our parents. But I'm not putting up with this anymore!" He screamed. He could feel his breath getting stuck in his lungs, his body trembling, that pang in his stomach that told him something was wrong, but he didn't care.

In the moment of silence, the only sound was the splash of the bird toy sitting in front of Mrs. Kendall.

'God damnit, Howell,' Phil sighed, and instantly Dan froze.

"Mr. Howell that outburst was incredibly inappropriate and I am talking to the principal about giving you a suspension for it," she said before he could focus on what Phil had thought. She pulled a notepad and pen out of nowhere and furiously scribbled down a note.

"Now, Mr. Lester, about your dad hitting you?" The way she said it was twisted, almost like she was enjoying it. She wielded the words like a sadistic child wielded a magnifying glass over an ant. 

Dan wanted to scream again, but he'd used up all of his voice the last time.

"Not my dad, my brother," he said, a vague smugness etched on my face. "He's not abusive, we just got in a fight. I just came here to cool off for a bit."

'Call CPS now, bitch,' he thought, and Dan couldn't help but crack the smallest smile.

"Well," she said, pushing her glasses up on her nose, "If that's all, I suppose you're free to go. Mr. Howell, I'll be calling your parents to discuss your suspension. Have a lovely day."

'God bless your souls,' she thought as they both bolted from the room.

They stopped at the end of the hall, both sucking air from their escape. "Hey," Dan started between breaths, "I'm really sorry about—"

"Please, don't," said Phil. There wasn't malice in his voice. He just sounded tired.

You wouldn't get it, he thought, and he was right. Dan didn't get it. 

But for reasons he couldn't articulate and much less explain, he wanted to.

So badly, he wanted to.


	4. Chapter 4

Dan had arrived home fifteen minutes ago, but he couldn't bring himself to open the door to his apartment. He tried to listen for his mom's thoughts to gage the reaction she would have, but she was reading, so all he heard was the main character of her book describing the love interest's eyes ridiculously great detail.

When Dan finally built up the courage to open the door, he found the room cleaner than he'd ever seen it. Every surface was spotless and shining, all the blankets were perfectly folded over the couch, and the carpet looked whiter than it ever had before.

The faintest scent of vinegar hung in the air, but he couldn't tell for sure if that's what it was.

Dan's mom was sitting on the couch with a book in hand, staring at him above the front cover with silver rimmed glasses askew on her nose.

'You little trouble maker,' she chided in her head. He could even hear her mental tsks at him.

"Wow, the house looks great," he said, trying to ignore the thrum of anxiety coursing through him.

She cocked her head at him, eyebrows raised.

"I fucked up," he groaned, collapsing into the chair across from her.

"Don't mess up the blanket, it was perfect," she said, grinning as she turned her attention back to the book. "Also, watch your language." 

What was she playing at? She was acting so normal, and Dan has broken more rules in the last 24 hours than he had in the rest of his entire adolescence.

"Mom, you know all the stuff I did, right?" He couldn't just not tell her, could he?

"Yeah." She said simply, licking her thumb and turning the page.

"I snuck out last night." He searched her face and thoughts for some kind of reaction, but there was none.

"I know, I heard you leave. Next time you might want to sneak back in, though. Kind of a rookie mistake." She didn't look up, not once, but she was trying and failing to suppress a smile.

"I'm getting suspended from school for yelling at a teacher." He was growing more skeptical by the moment. Did she really not care.

"Yeah, she called. Unfortunately, it's in-school suspension, so you still have to go." 

"Why aren't you angry?" 

She put her book down finally, and looked him dead in the eye, leaning close and touching his face with her palm. 

It struck him just how similar they looked. Same eyes, same hair when he left natural, same dimples she was smiling at him with. But it was a sad kind of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was always so happy, but looking at her close she seemed tired. He wondered if her joy was just a facade.

"Daniel James Howell," she said softly, brushed his hair out of his eyes. "For the first time in your life you're rebelling. I didn't want a nerd for a kid. I'm over the moon." She laughed as Dan stared at her, taking it in.

"Aren't you supposed to correct me when I do something wrong?" He asked softly, and she shook her head, dark curls bouncing at her shoulders.

"Bear, I'm not so sure you did the wrong thing. I know you, and I know you wouldn't have acted out if she hadn't provoked you." She was right about that, but he couldn't say "Oh, yeah, I heard her think the f-word." So he just nodded.

"And as your mom," she said, "I'm supposed to make sure you're happy and healthy, and right now I think you are." She took his arm and squeezed it, her grip resting where his old scars lay.

"I think I am too," he said. And he meant it.

He should've expected this from his mom. She was always patient and said the right thing. It was silly to think that she'd get angry at him.

"Does Dad know?"

Her grip on him stiffened, which told him everything he needed to know. 

"He's coming home early, and he isn't going to be happy. I tried to talk him down, but he doesn't quite see things the way I do."

"Okay." He nodded. So he did have a reason to be worried, just not the one he thought.

Dan's dad wasn't abusive. He didn't hit him, he didn't call him names, and he gave Dan everything he physically needed. But they weren't close.

When Dan was little, he idolized his dad. He listened to all the music his dad listened to, wanted to work in an office just like him, would steal his shirts and sleep in them.

But at some point Dan realized that his dad didn't care about him. His dad cared about being idolized, and when that stopped, he stopped being a dad.

Dan started listening to his own music and his dad stopped turning on the radio on car rides. Dan wanted to be an artist instead of an accountant and his dad stopped helping him with homework. When addition became still life drawings, his dad just didn't know what to do. He stopped wearing his dad's clothes and moved on to band t's, and his dad never complimented his wardrobe again.

They were distant to say the least, and if you asked his dad, he'd say it was because of teen hormones or some bullshit. He managed to rid himself of all responsibility for their strained relationship.

And despite this, his dad still wanted to be his dad. He still made rules "to keep him safe," but he didn't do anything when Dan needed his help. Dan didn't hate his dad, he had no reason to, but he couldn't stand the limbo his father existed in. He should either step up and be a real parent, or butt out completely.

It was like a king ruling a colony all the way across the sea, one that he knew absolutely nothing about. You can't make laws for a people you don't know.

But it was fine. Dan had his mom to fill in the gaps his dad left, and she was more than enough.

Without thinking he fell forward and embraced her, squeezing as tight as he could.

"What's this for?" She asked, squeezing him back.

"Everything," he whispered.

She patted his back and let go, grasping his shoulders. "I'm so proud of you," she said, and he knew she meant it. 

Dan didn't know what to say, but luckily his mom reached out to ruffle his hair before could. "I'd be prouder if you didn't curl your hair, for once," she said, her nose scrunching as she smiled.

"Maybe one day."

His dad came home and yelled about respect for a good 15 minutes. Dan nodded and promised not to slip up again, and his dad took his phone and sent Dan upstairs. It was routine, and Dan hated every second of it. No, not hate. Just absent of love. The way a wall is cold as opposed to ice.

But in the morning he found his phone on the nightstand with a note from his mom that read I love you, bear XOXO - mom. And that made up for everything.

A week and two days of suspension passed uneventfully. Every other waking moment was spent thinking about Phil, and more specifically the prospect of some peace and quiet. Was Phil the only one who could do that? Why was it Phil specifically?

But in the back of his head, a part of his mind he refused to acknowledge was thinking about more than just silence. It was thinking about whether Phil was okay after the fight with his brother, if he was thinking about Dan right then, and what a lovely shade of blue his eyes were.

Dan sat on his bed doing homework, the afternoon sun casting long shadows through his blinds when his phone vibrated. 

Phil: Hey, are you grounded?  
Dan: no, why  
Dan: actually wait depends on what you have in mind  
Phil: Don't freak out i'm outside your house 

Dan stared at the screen for a moment. He should probably be mad, or maybe a bit creeped out, but he'd been wanting to see Phil for more than a week, and beggars couldn't be choosers. Clearly the universe decided that it was time for them to see each other again.

Phil: Dan?  
Dan: give me five mins

He leapt to his feet and frantically put on his best jeans and a clean hoodie, and ran a flat iron through is hair. He found some cologne in one of his drawers he hand the used in ages, but put some on.

Just to be safe.

He started toward the door, but hesitated in the threshold for a moment. Should he bring his backpack just in case? Or would that freak Phil out!

He left his bag and charged to the front door as quietly as he could. He glanced over at his mom, who was focused intently on her book. He slid on his chucks, not bothering to tie the laces, and slowly cracked the door open.

"You don't have to sneak out," his mom called, not looking up. "But come home this morning."

'And talk to a girl for once,' she thought, a chuckle in her mind.

"I love you, mom," he said, smiling. She'd be okay when he told her, he knew it. But he wasn't going to shatter the illusion that he might one day be a ladies' man just yet.

"Love you too, Bear. And take a jacket." Dan grabbed one off the coat rack by the door and he slipped out of the door to where Phil's car was waiting.

"That was not five minutes," he said as soon as Dan got in the car.

"Well you're still here, aren't you?" He tried to say it seriously, couldn't suppress the grin.

"I guess I am," said Phil, backing out of the parking lot. His black hair was as messy as ever, and the collar of his blue flannel was folded weird. 

The bruise on his jaw had completely faded, and there weren't any other blossoms of color on Phil's skin he could see.

Phil rolled the windows down once they got out on the main road, and his dark hair whipped with the wind. Dan tried to smooth down his fringe without Phil noticing, and prayed his curls wouldn't show.

"So where are we going?" Asked Dan. Phil's driving hadn't improved in the week they'd been apart because he was thrown forward as Phil braked for a stop sign. "Jesus, learn to drive."

"Sorry," said Phil. 'Gays can't drive, silly,' he thought, and Dan froze.

Shit. This was a part of Phil that he didn't mean to share with Dan. Dan stole it from him, and now he'd have to carry that around like every other secret he'd ever stolen.

If he were selfless, he'd confess right then and there and deal with Phil never talking to him again. But he wasn't, so he bit his tongue and hoped he didn't let it slip that he knew.

The worst part was the voice in his head telling him this was a good thing. Now he knew he had chance with Phil.

"Dan?" Phil asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, spaced out for a sec," said Dan, shaking his head to clear everything away. He'd dealt with secrets before, he could deal with them now.

"I said I found this place not too far out of town where the light pollution isn't too bad," said Phil, glancing at Dan before returning his eyes to the road. "I thought we could stargaze."

Dan bit his tongue. The universe was torturing him. This boy was perfect, and Dan couldn't morally ask him out because he accidentally overheard that he was gay using his stupid mind powers.

"That sounds great, actually."

"Perfect." Phil turned on the radio, and A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More Touch Me started playing.

Dan held his breath as he waited for Phil to change the station, but of course this perfect fucker started singing the words.

"You're just the girl all the boys want to dance with!" He yelled, completely off-key but still charming as all hell.

Dan took a deep breath. Was he really going to do this?

He was going to do this. "And I'm just the boy who took too many chances!" Dan yelled back.

Phil looked over at him, the widest smile on his face, as he belted out the next line. The wind whipped his hair around him as he sang, like he was in a music video or something.

Phil was pretty enough to be in a music video. 

They spent the rest of the car ride singing at the top of their lungs, windows down and speeding toward the setting sun, and for that half-hour Dan didn't listen to a single voice in his head.

They parked in a gravel lot that led to a hiking trail. The sun was nearly down, and the chill of  
the November air had snuck up on Dan wasn't paying attention. He tried his best not to shiver against the wind.

The trees that stretched before him were dark in the blueish light coming from the horizon, and a thin dirt path wound into the woods, with the gnarled shadows of the trees blanketing it.

It looked like a scene out of the Blair Witch Project, but hey, he was with Phil, so he'd endure.

"We have to get back before morning this time," said Dan. He stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his coat to warm them.

"I can work with that," said Phil shutting the driver's side door as he wormed himself into the shiniest coat Dan had ever seen.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Asked Dan, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

"What? It's stylish." Phil did a twirl and the fabric glimmered.

"You must be blind," he said, grinning. "Lead the way, Captain Spacecoat."

They spent a good 20 minutes trudging through the forest, talking about nonsense like bands and fandoms and video games. They surprisingly had a lot in common, though Phil had never seen an episode of Sherlock, which was almost a dealbreaker.

Almost.

A canopy of leaves rose over the path the entire way they walked, and Dan could only get glimpses of the sky in the gaps.

It was completely dark when they came to a clearing of trees, and Dan's mouth fell open as he looked up. He could see more stars than he'd ever seen in his life. The big ones of the constellations he knew still stuck out, but there were so many more twinkling lights scattered across them.

"Breathtaking, isn't it," said Phil, neck craned upwards. A white puff of air escaped his lips as he said it.

I wonder if there's life out there, he thought.

Dan's gaze was drawn to Phil as he'd been thinking the same thing. He was about to say something, but je was taken aback by the way he could almost see the reflection of the stars in Phil's eyes.

"And it's a new moon, too, so you can see them better," said Phil. He glanced down and saw that Dan was staring at him. "What?" He asked, the hint of a smug smile on his face.

"Nothing," said Dan, quickly looking away. "We should've brought blankets," he said, kicking at the ground with his shoe. 

"I'm not afraid of a little dirt," said Phil, plopping down criss-cross applesauce right where he'd been standing.

"Is that a challenge," asked Dan, giggling and giddy, drunk on the stars. as he sat down next to Phil.

"If it is, I'm gonna win." Phil sprawled out on the ground, staring straight up at the sky.

"Oh, really?" Dan sprawled out as Phil did, then started sweeping his arms and legs in the shape of an angel. The dirt was cold against his skin, and he could taste it in the air as he kicked up the dust.

"You're such a goof," said Phil, laughing as he rolled over and shoved Dan.

"You're just mad I won." 

"Sure, keep telling yourself that, Howell," he said, eyes fixed on the sky.

Dan looked up too, and tried to pick out all of the constellations he knew.

It's been ages since we came out here, Phil thought, the voice in his head tinged with melancholy. Dan bit his tongue, debating if he should try to touch Phil before he found out anything else.

Without warning, Phil reached out and laced his fingers with Dan's. Immediately the inner monologue went silent, and a wave of relief washed over Dan.

"Your hands are cold," said Phil, his breath twirling up like cigarette smoke.

"Thanks, I guess," said Dan. It was a weird response, but he couldn't gauge how it landed because Phil was touching him.

Phil laughed softly into the air. Dan smiled.

"I feel like we don't know much about each other," said Phil. 

"What do you want to know?"

"What's your favorite color?" Phil asked with more gusto than the question warranted.

Dan laughed. "Black, like my soul."

"Boring! Pick a different color."

"Blue," Dan said without hesitation. Like Phil's eyes.

"Wow, the most common favorite color, how original."

"Well, what's your favorite color?" Dan asked, rolling to nudge Phil's shoulder with his.

"Brown," he said softly. The word hung in the space between them for a minute.

"It is not," Dan said finally. No one's favorite color was brown, that's ridiculous.

"You're right, it's yellow," said Phil, and Dan could hear the smile in his words without even looking at him.

"Well, what else do you want to know?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" 

The question was so childish. "When they grew up" was in less than two years when they graduated from high school, but Dan liked it. He felt like a kid, staring up at the stars and completely free from the curse of mind reading.

"An artist," he said. He didn't say that out loud much. It was a competitive field and he wasn't good enough to stand a chance, but it was true.

"What kind of artist?" Asked Phil. He turned on his side to face Dan, not letting go of his hand as he did.

Dan rolled to face Phil too, bending his arm so their hands were connected right in front of their faces. "I mostly draw and paint, so the dream is to sell those. Like travel the country going to art shows and stuff."

"Wow. I wish I was talented."

"Shut up, you're talented at something, everyone is." said Dan. "What do you want to be?"

"I don't know." Suddenly he sat up, letting go of Dan's hand and pointing at the sky. "Shooting star! Did you see it?"

"No," said Dan, pushing himself to a seat and squinting up at the sky.

"They happen one right after the other, so if we wait a minute... There! Did you see it?"

A beam of white shot across the sky, brightening before it fizzled out into nothing.

I wish my brother would change his mind, Phil thought, and Dan instinctively grabbed for his hand again.

His mind went to what he'd heard Phil think before. Gays can't drive, silly. Just a harmless comment, but it revealed so much to Dan.

Phil sucked in a breath, and Dan turned to look at him. "So, you don't know what you want to do?" 

"Well, I kind of like the idea of filmmaking," said Phil, looking at the ground sheepishly.

"That is so cool. I bet you're amazing at it."

"Don't speak too soon, you haven't even seen anything I've done."

"Still," said Dan. "There's another one," he said, pointing up as another star shot across the sky.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Asked Phil, tracing circles in the dirt with the heel of his shoe and intentionally avoiding Dan's eyes.

Dan nudged Phil with his shoulder. "Do you really think I'd be out in the woods holding hands with a boy I'd just met if I did?"

Phil let out a dry laugh. "Good point. I'm gay, if you were wondering."

Well, Dan guessed he didn't have any reason to worry before. Phil was just going to tell him tonight anyway.

"Good. Imagine if I was holding hands with a straight guy." They both laughed, and Phil's head fell on Dan's shoulder the way it had the other night in the car. His hair brushed Dan's neck, and it took everything inside of him not to cringe at the feeling.

"Is there anything you want to know about me?" Asked Phil, squeezing Dan's hand.

He hesitated for a moment. Maybe he shouldn't ask it, but hopefully, Phil would understand.

"You don't have to answer, but why are you friends with your friends?" Phil shifted against him, and panic erupted in his chest. "I mean, maybe they're lovely, but from what I've seen of them—"

"No, it's okay," said Phil. "They can be jerks sometimes, but they've been with me through almost everything. I can't just toss them aside, you know?"

Dan didn't know. His only real friend was Pj, and Pj was never a jerk. Well, except for when he was drunk, but Dan was overprotective so he understood why. And it never carried over into sober Pj, so it hardly counted.

"Okay," he breathed, watching his breath swirl up to the stars. "I get that."

They sat like that, hand in hand, pointing out shooting stars and mumbling nonsense for what felt like hours. When they realized it was almost 3 am, they headed back to the car and Phil drove them home. Dan was too tired to focus on what Phil was thinking and Phil was too tired to think coherently.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Dan's apartment building, his dad's car was there, so he'd have to be extra careful sneaking back inside. He doubted his dad would've noticed, most nights he came home, ate dinner, and watched tv until he fell asleep.

He did all that without remembering he had a son.

"I had fun, Howell."

"Me too, Lester," he said, grinning in the dark at Phil.

Without warning Phil leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Sweet dreams," he said, soft and sincere.

Dan could feel his face catch on fire, and he was grateful it was dark. He wanted so badly to kiss Phil then, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd mess it up somehow, and the night had been so perfect he didn't want to risk it.

"Until next time," he said, climbing out of the car.

"Until next time," Phil echoed, then put the car in reverse and was soon disappearing into the night.

Dan watched him go, then tiptoed inside. He made it to his room without issue, and collapsed onto his bed without even bothering to change, he was so tired.

He drifted off quickly. His dreams were filled with shooting stars and Phillip Lester, and he smiled as he slept.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey hey!" Pj called from across the cafeteria, making his way through the maze of chairs. He reached their table and leaned over Dan's shoulder to look at his sketch book. "Who's that?"

"No one," said Dan, shielding it with his arm. Of course it was Phil, but he wasn't ready to tell Pj that. He wasn't sure what he and Phil were yet, so it would be hard to explain.

He also liked having a secret.

"Okay..." said Pj, squinting skeptically. "So you know the last Doctor Who season?"

"Yeah," said Dan, shoving his sketch book into his backpack and fumbling around for his lunchbox.

"Guess who just got the DVD set?" Asked Pj, beaming as he said it, green eyes shining.

"No way!" Said Dan, looking up.

"Yes way!" Pj squealed. "You have to come over this weekend so we can watch the whole thing."

"Yeah, of course, it's not like I have a social life." 

Just as Dan said that none other than Phil came and sat on the other side of him. "Hey, Dan," he said, wrapping an arm around Dan. The skin of his wrist brushed Dan's neck, and the buzz of the cafeteria vanished in his head. 

"Who's your friend?" Asked Pj, an obvious smirk on his face.

Dan willed Pj to wipe off that stupid smile as he said, "Pj, Phil Lester. Phil, Pj Liguori."

"Pleasure," said Phil. 

"So what's up?" Asked Dan. He hoped Phil couldn't feel how tense he was. The thought of their relationship, whatever it was, getting back to his parents filled him dread.

Or of middle school bullies coming back for a round two in high school. 

And he couldn't hear anything they were hearing.

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to say hi," said Phil. "Hi."

"Hi," said Dan, cursing himself as a giggle escaped his throat. What was he, twelve? They locked eyes, and for a moment they were the only ones there. His head silent, and his whole view taken up by Phil Lester.

"Ugh, get a room," Pj scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Phil looked over to the hallway that led to the cafeteria. Chris was standing there, talking to some of Phil's other friends. He stood up suddenly, knocking his chair back as the noise of the room doubled in Dan's head.

"I should probably go. I'll text you, Howell," he said, rushing out of the room as quick as he'd shown up.

"Oh, okay, bye," Dan called, waving at him awkwardly. He could hear snippets of people's thoughts, like 'What the hell?' or 'Phil's gay?' but it all jumbled together.

"Dan, what was that?" Asked Pj, eyebrows raised. 

"Nothing," Dan muttered, pretending not to notice people glancing his way and trying not to stare. Why him? chorused in his mind, which made sense.

People barely knew Dan, so someone mildly popular paying attention to him, especially like that, was news.

"Sure as hell didn't look like nothing," said Pj, searching Dan's face. "Hey, are you okay?" His tone was suddenly soft.

"Yeah! Completely," he said, turning back to Pj. "People are just staring, you know?"

Pj looked around, and Dan grabbed his arm wildly. "What are you doing?"

"Looking yo see if people are looking. They aren't."

"Okay," Dan mumbled, but they were looking. He could hear them.

"Plus, being seen with the hottest guy in school isn't the worst thing," said Pj, shrugging as he dug through his bag for a sketchbook.

"Yeah."

Pj sighed. "Okay, you don't want to talk about it here. I get that," he said. "But you're coming over tonight and telling me everything."

Later that day, Dan and Pj were in the dark, Dan sprawled on the couch and Pj lying on the floor. The lights were switched off and all the blinds pulled, leaving only the tv in front of them illuminating the room. The furious click clack of their fingers on their controllers filled their ears, and neither of them breathed as the focused on the screen.

"Hey Dan, how about a challenge?" Asked Pj, not looking away from the screen.

"What is it?"

"If I win, I get to ask anything I want about you and Phil."

"You're on," said Dan without thinking. He was too competitive to back down from a challenge, even if talking about Phil was the thing he least wanted to do right now.

Dan was in the lead, but not by far. Pj was only a few paces behind him, but as long as he didn't falter he could stay in front.

And then he saw it. A shadow above him, and he knew it was over. He swore loudly as his car was hit and spun out, leaving Pj to swerve around him and take the lead.

"God damnit, Pj, did you throw that blue shell?"

"You have no proof," said Pj. 'That was so lucky', he thought, beaming as he manned his car around a banana peel in the road.

"No no no no," Dan mumbled, leaning closer to the tv as he tried to regain his spot at number one. The next lap passed too quickly, and Dan couldn't catch a break to get in front of Pj.

Pj crossed the finish line, and Dan got second place. He groaned and tossed his controller, and it skittered across the floor.

Pj had a triumphant smirk on his face, illuminated by the technicolor light coming from the screen. "A deal's a deal, Dan," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "I don't make the rules."

In this case, Pj had made the rules, but Dan wasn't in any position to be a smart ass. He'd just got his butt kicked.

"Fine, ask your stupid questions," he said, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt to cover his eyes. Surely this would be less embarrassing if he didn't have to look at Pj while he was interrogated.

What he had with Phil was so weird and out of nowhere, it was jarring for anyone else to know about it. Phil and everyone else existed in two different worlds as far as he was concerned.

"How far have you gone?" Asked Pj, his voice dripping with mischief.

"Oh my god," he groaned, glad that Pj couldn't see the pain on his face.

"You have to answer."

"We haven't even kissed yet," he said, pushing himself to a seat but pointedly not looking at Pj. His gaze jumped from the tv to the blinds to the ceiling and back again.

'Boring', Pj thought but didn't say. "So you actually just slept in a car with him?"

"Yep." Dan wished he could melt into the couch right then. 

"You're insane," he said, laughing. "Are you sure he's gay?"

"Yeah, he told me." He could feel the heat in his cheeks and ears like a sunburn.

"Is he nice?" Asked Pj, his voice small. 

Dan's heart broke all over again at the words, and he forgot to be embarrassed. "Pj, I swear to god I wouldn't date him if he wasn't nice."

Pj let out a humorless laugh. "You're better than me." And you were right the whole time, he added in his mind.

"That's not what I—"

"I know," he said, voice distant. He stared at the screen, watching the characters take their victory laps while they waited for someone to press A.

"Pj, I'm really—"

"Forget I said anything." Please, he pleaded in his head, and Dan decided not to push it. He really wanted to, to tell Pj it wasn't his fault, but it wouldn't do any good. He'd been told those things a million times.

"So," said Pj, his tone back to normal as if nothing had happened, "has he said anything about Chris saying anything about me?"

Dan raised his eyebrows. "Pj Ligouri, does someone have a crush?" He asked, voice rising in mock excitement.

Okay, semi-mock excitement.

"Daniel Howell, I will neither confirm nor deny," he said, smiling in the dark.

"Tell you what, I'll ask if he's said anything next time I see Phil."

"And that's why we're friends."

Dan bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't say anything. Chris was a bully in middle school. He'd beaten up Dan several times, throwing punches and slurs liberally. If he were nice he would break it to Pj now that there was no way Chris wasn't straight.

But Pj was happy, Dan couldn't shatter the facade. Pj had only moved here freshman year, so he didn't remember Chris the way Dan did.

And maybe Chris had had a change of heart. And Pj wouldn't go for another jerk, not his last boyfriend. This was probably Pj moving on.

Just then, Dan's phone buzzed. Pj eyed him curiously, as he read the message. 

Phil: Hey do you want to come over? We could watch Sherlock  
Dan: rain check, i'm busy right now  
Phil: :(

Dan put down and pointed at the controller he'd tossed across the room earlier. "Pj, could you grab that for me?"

"Was that Phil?" He asked, squinting at Dan.

"Yeah, but it wasn't anything important," he said. "Let's keep playing."

"If he's inviting you somewhere you should go," he said. His jealousy was thinly veiled, but Dan appreciated the effort. "Plus, I need you to ask about Chris for me."

"I already said no. And I have to play hard to get. I went out with him like two nights ago," he said, shrugging.

Pj's jaw dropped, and the shock seemed sincere. "You guys went out on a date and you didn't tell me?" He asked, climbing onto the couch next to Dan.

"I wouldn't call it a date, but—"

"Aww, you're blushing, it was definitely a date," Pj squealed. "Where'd you go?"

"He took me stargazing," he said, and he couldn't suppress his smile when he thought about it.

"That's so romantic! I'd kill to have a real boyfriend," said Pj, poking him in the chest playfully.

"He's not my boyfriend!" He said, exasperated. Pj really wasn't going to let this go.

"Tell me everything, start to finish." He said. I mean it.

Dan sighed. "Okay, fine," he relented. "So he texted me saying..."

Phil caught Dan in the hall between classes to a symphony of thoughts in Dan's head from others wondering what Phil was doing. Why he was bothering with a weird outcast. Why he was suddenly acting gay out of the blue.

It wasn't hard to ignore them after Phil invited Dan over to his house after school. How could you pay attention to others when your crush was going out of his way to spend time with you?

So now Dan was sitting in Phil's kitchen, swiveling in a bar stool while Phil asked him if he wanted something to drink.

"We've got hot chocolate, coffee, tea... I could probably take something from the wine cooler if you're up for it," Phil rattled off, rummaging though a cabinet. From the back his hair looked like a bird's nest, but it worked on him.

"Hot chocolate sounds wonderful." He tried not to be distracted by the ceiling that soared above their heads or pretty glass light fixtures hung over the marble counter he sat at.

Phil's house looked like it belonged in a magazine. It had the kind of open feel you saw on HGTV. The brown cabinets looked perfect against the cream colored walls, which looked perfect with the white shag rug that was in the living room, which complemented the art on the walls. 

Dan's apartment was an eclectic mess, where nothing quite looked right because whoever rented the place before them was colorblind when it came to paint colors. And the furniture was all stuff his parents had already owned. Not to mention how cramped everything was with how little space they had.

It was unsettling, how perfect Phil's house was. But that was the difference between a family that could afford an interior decorator and one that couldn't.

He wasn't sure how he could ever invite Phil over after seeing this. His whole apartment was probably the size of the room they were in right now.

"One hot chocolate," he said, smiling as he set the mug in front of Dan. The marshmallows bobbed as he wrapped his hands around the drink to warm his perpetually cold hands.

"Thanks," he said, then leaned in to take a sip. The hot liquid seared his lips. "Fucking hell," he yelled, jerking back as the hot cocoa sloshed over the side of the mug. 

"Careful, it's hot," said Phil, laughing as he grabbed a towel from the oven handle to wipe it up. The towel had a cornucopia on it, and Dan couldn't imagine changing out towels season to season. It seemed overkill.

"Thanks for the warning," he said, his tongue stinging.

Phil threw the soaked towel into the sink and grabbed a water bottle, gesturing a set of staircases at the far side of the room. "We can go downstairs and watch a movie, or we can hang out in my room."

"Your room, definitely. I have to know what it looks like," he said, biting the inside of his cheek. Maybe that was too forward.

'I like the way you think,' he thought, leading them to the ascending staircase. Dan tried to get rid of the heat crawling into his cheeks.

Phil's bedroom was at the end of the hallway for he left. "The other one's by brother's," he said, gesturing to the room on the right, "but he's not here. I'd give you a tour but he'd skin my ass if he knew I went in there."

"Older or younger?" 

"Older," he said, opening the door to his room.

The first thing that stood out to Dan was that the ceiling and walls were completely covered. Band and movie posters, pictures of Phil with his friends, even some newspaper clippings were pinned all around his room.

"He's the family disappointment, 'cause he's 21 and still living at home," he continued, sitting down on the green and blue checked duvet.

"Sounds like you have a lot to live up to," said Dan, sitting on the bed next to Phil. "What's with the walls."

Phil looked around, hesitating. 'I have so many horrible pictures,' he thought. His gaze settled on a section of the wall dedicated to Trentino movie posters. "It's kind of like a scrap book, but I just put it everywhere."

"Huh," said Dan. Right above Phil's headboard was a picture of a two young boys with gingery hair, both of them holding up presents wrapped in bright red paper. "Who are they?"

"That's me and my brother," said Phil, sheepishly running a hand through his hair. 'Shit, I can't believe he spotted that one.'

Dan didn't even try to to laugh. "Wow, I never knew you dyed your hair."

"Please don't tell anyone anyone," he groaned, hiding his face with his hands.

"I won't, get a grip, Phil," said Dan, still laughing. "I have to admit the black hair suits you better."

"That's not even a good picture," said Phil. 

"Well, wait till you see my Hobbit hair."

"Your what now?" 

"Nothing," said Dan, scanning the walls. His gaze landed on a picture of a family of four, all with the same pale skin. "Is that everyone?" He asked, standing and walking over to the picture.

"Yeah," said Phil, following Dan to it.

"Your mom is really pretty," said Dan, looking at the picture. She had the same eyes as Phil, where his dad's were hazel.

"Thanks," said Phil. "This was our last summer before they got divorced."

"I'm sorry," Dan whispered.

"It's okay," said Phil. He spun on his heel and moved to a section of pictures of him, maybe seven years old, in a ridiculous muscle suit and blonde wig, wielding a hammer he could hardly lift in the photo.

"Thor? Really?" Asked Dan, staring at the picture and covering his smile with his hand.

"What? I totally pulled off Thor," said Phil, flexing as Dan laughed at him. He couldn't see any muscle through the shirt he was wearing, which only made it funnier.

"Wow, you're right, I can't believe I didn't see it sooner," Dan quipped, squeezing Phil's bicep.

Dan could feel him tense beneath his touch and pulled away quickly, hoping he hadn't overstepped a boundary.

'Where is everyone?' Came a thought dimly through Dan's head. He listened closely for another one, forgetting about Phil sitting right next to him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, waving a hand in front of Dan's face.

"Yeah, I think I heard someone downstairs though. Is that okay?"

An anxious look crossed Phil's face for just a moment before he said, "No, it's no big deal," nonchalantly.

Please don't let it be Sam, he pleaded in his mind. Dan wasn't entirely sure if Sam was his brother or a step dad or something, but he wouldn't have to wait long. 

He could hear the stairs creaking.

A guy with light brown hair he'd slicked back and stained white t-shirt burst in through the door. "Who's this," he asked, bright blue eyes wide and bloodshot as he looked between the two of them.

'You selfish ass,' he thought. The voice in his head was so angry. Phil made it sound like the bruise on his jaw was just a fluke thing, but Dan wasn't so sure after hearing the tone in Sam's head.

"Phil, is he who I think he is?" He took a step forward, and Phil flinched.

"I'm Dan," he said, rushing over and holding out his hand for Sam to shake. He couldn't ask, but the question of who Sam thought he was burned in his head.

Sam pushed past him to get in Phil's face. "What if she stopped by? Or was that your plan?" He demanded.

Phil set his jaw and stared down his brother, his hand balled into fists. Phil was taller, but he looked so small in comparison. It wasn't until they were right next to each other that he saw the similarities in the shapes of their faces, the furrow of their brows identical in their anger.

"I want her to know," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"You can't take her from me," said Sam, his voice breaking unexpectedly. Until that moment Dan thought he might give Phil another bruise on the face, but he looked just as helpless as Phil now, for different reasons.

Phil's expression hardened. "I won't."

"You can't even risk it."

"It's okay," said Dan, reaching forward to grab the edge of Phil's sleeve. He gave it a tug. "I'll go."

"Dan, you don't have to—"

"No, come on," said Dan, pulling Phil past his brother and out of the room. Sam called something to them, but Dan was moving too fast to catch it.

When the got downstairs Dan could hear Sam stomping around upstairs, and he gathered his things faster with every pound through the ceiling.

"Dan, I really don't want him to mess this up," said Phil,watching as Dan grabbed his backpack from the kitchen. He was still seething and trying to mask it, but he wasn't doing it well.

'I hate him,' he was screaming in his mind. Dan was tempted to hold his hand to make it stop, but he didn't think he should.

"Well, you're my ride home, so who's to say we can't just drive around for a bit?" Asked Dan, 

"Okay," he agreed through gritted teeth. "I'll grab my keys."

"So where are we driving?" Asked Phil, swerving as he switched into the left lane. The cherry scented tree swung wildly from the rearview mirror.

"No where in particular," he said, trying to ignore the car lurching as Phil crossed a speed bump.

He didn't say anything in return, but the engine groaned as the hand of the speedometer climbed.

"Phil, you're going pretty fast," said Dan, trying to hide the fear in his voice and holding onto the handle that came from the ceiling.

"It's fine," he said, turning a corner and nearly spinning out. Dan whipped into the door so hard his head hit the window.

"Fuck," he mumbled. He looked over and saw tears streaming down Phil's face, silently, his knuckles so tight on the wheel they turned white. "Pull over."

"I'm fine."

"God damnit Phil pull the car over!" He yelled. He didn't like seeing this side of Phil, one that was so angry and reckless. Dan knew he was angry, but it was genuinely scaring him watching like this. He wasn't seeing the stargazer from the other night; this was a Phil Lester he'd never seen before.

They pulled into a parking lot, and Phil turned toward his window as soon as he put it in park.

"Phil?" Said Dan softly. Phil just shook his head, but Dan could see him shuddering.

"You don't have to explain what's up with your brother," he said, "but you don't get to kill us in a car crash because of it!"

"I'm sorry," Phil mumbled, but Dan wasn't having it.

"Phil, we could have fucking died!" Dan slammed his hands on the dashboard. "You can't pull shit like this."

"I'm sorry!" Phil rested his head back on his seat, staring up at the roof of the car. His black hair fell over his face, but it didn't look charming. It looked defeated. 

I fucked this up, he thought, and Dan wasn't sure yet if he was right.

"My mom's in town for a few weeks," he started. That night, I told my brother I was gonna come out to Mom. He already knew, but he didn't want me to tell her. That's why he hit me."

"Why did he even care?"

Phil grimaced. "He thinks if she disowns me, she'll never come back. She'll cut him out of her life with me."

"I'm so sorry," said Dan, leaning over and grabbing his face. The angry roar of Phil's thoughts vanished as Dan traced his thumbs over Phil's flushed skin, hot from anger against his fingers. 

It wasn't right, that Phil was forced to stay in the closet because his brother told him to. "You shouldn't let him control you like that," said Dan, suddenly angry too. He didn't like that Phil had to pretend to be someone he wasn't.

Though, when he thought about it, Dan didn't really know who Phil was. He'd seen him happy and angry so far; he didn't know what Phil was like when he was sad, or afraid, or jealous, or confused, or anything else. He'd seemed all too ready to crash his car when he was angry, what else could he do?

Gently, Phil took Dan's wrists in his hands and pushed them away from him. 

"If he's right he'll never forgive me," he said. "I'll lose a mom and a brother at once." He returned his gaze out the window, away from Dan. The buzz of Phil's thoughts came back into Dan's mind, but they were strangely quiet.

"It isn't right," said Dan.

"Most things aren't," Phil said, shrugging. He turned back to Dan, and the expression on his face was forced and neutral. "I shouldn't have lost my temper. Most people have it worse. My dad gets it, at least, and my mom still might," he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Just 'cause people have it worse doesn't mean what you're going through is any better," said Dan, eyeing him skeptically. It was like Phil flipped a switch to shut off his emotions.

"Still." He reached for his door and opened it. "You can drive, I don't want to scare you anymore," he said, climbing out of the car.

"Oh, okay," said Dan, climbing out of the car and circling around to the driver's side.

He sat behind the wheel and messed with the mirrors nervously. His dad almost always had the car, so while Dan had his license, he didn't do much driving. 

It might've even been safer for Phil to just drive.

"Your place, I guess," he said, his voice flat.

"Okay." Dan hesitantly put the car in reverse and backed out of the lot.

The car rumbled down the streets in silence, just under the speed limit and coming to a complete halt at every stop sign. Dan's eyes flitted to each mirror every few seconds with a stolen glance to Phil every few cycles. 

Phil stared straight ahead, with no discernible expression and no intelligible thoughts in his head. It was like he'd suddenly turned to stone.

Dan pulled into the parking lot at his apartment and winced at the decaying building, Phil's soaring ceiling and impeccable interior design fresh in his mind. 

He pushed down the shame and jealousy as he turned off the car. The absence of the engine left a faint ringing in his ears.

"I'm really sorry," said Dan.

Phil didn't meet his eyes. "Can we just pretend today didn't happen?" He asked.

"Yeah, of course," said Dan, nodding. He didn't think it was the best idea, but he didn't want today to ruin what was happening between them for the last few weeks. If Phil wanted to ignore it, Dan wasn't going to stop him.

"Cool," said Phil. 

They sat in silence for a minute, neither of them sure what to say. Eventually Dan mumbled a goodbye and climbed out of the car, then rushed up to his apartment.

When he got to his room he peaked out of the blinds, and Phil's car had already disappeared from the lot. 

He had a knot in his stomach as he collapsed onto his bed. He wanted to believe everything would go back to normal, but he also knew that when they saw each other in the halls tomorrow it wouldn't be the same as it had been today.

He groaned and fished his phone out of his pocket, then turned up his music as loud as he could to block out his neighbor's thoughts coming through the walls.

It blocked out his own thoughts too, which he was grateful for.


	6. Chapter 6

The days dragged on with awkward 'hellos' in the hallways and ducking into classrooms to avoid running into each other. Dan caught glances of black hair standing up above the heads of his peers, but it always disappeared before they could talk. 

If Pj noticed what was going on with Phil, he didn't say anything, which was a relief. 

Their strange contest of who could go the longest without talking with the other ended when Phil slipped a note onto Dan's desk in history class. He'd rushed out with the crowd of students leaving before Dan could talk to him, but when he opened the note it was a date and an address.

'Meet up at a friend's house, be my +1?' It read.

Dan smiled as he folded the sheet of paper and carefully placed it into his pocket. Maybe the other day hadn't ruined everything after all.

Dan stood on an unfamiliar porch, squinting at the scrap of paper he held in the yellow light from the sconces. The sun had set behind him, but blue light still clung to the horizon, casting rows of houses in silhouette. He was in single story territory right now, but in the distance the two and even three story houses loomed above the rest.

Out where Phil lived.

He was still anxious to see Phil, they hadn't talked since their class the other day, and he nervously patted down his hair to make sure it was still straight. Eventually the cool November air became too much for him to handle, between the walk here and the stalling on the porch.

He triple checked the address Phil had given him before knocking on the door. He held his breath, noticing the overflowing mailbox attached to the side of the house as he waited. Letters were piled on the floor beneath it too.

Chris opened the door, the drunken grin on his face melting when he saw Dan. "Phil, it's yours," he groaned, spinning away from the door and stumbling slightly as he made his way into the kitchen.

Dan should've expected that Chris would be here, he was Phil's closest friend, but it was still jarring. The extent their interactions so far were Chris beating the shit out of him in middle school.

The room was small, but almost cozy, with a fire blazing in the brick fireplace and blankets hung over every couch cushion and chair. Almost cozy because empty bottles and pizza boxes were lying on every available surface, to the point where magazines and vases had been pushed to the floor to make room for it all.

There was also religious paraphernalia hung all over the room. Framed bible verses, crosses, the Icthys fish; filling almost every square inch of the cream colored wallpaper.

"Hey," said Phil, waving with one hand. He held a sweaty red solo cup in the other, and it was clear he was already buzzed from the look in his eyes.

He and a blonde girl he thought he recognized, Lizzy maybe stood around the kitchen island. The girl was talking to Chris, laughing about something Dan didn't hear.

"Hey," he said, striding to the empty space next to Phil and leaning against the island. Phil put an arm around him, pulling Dan into his chest.

"I've missed you," he said, his breath heavy with the smell of beer.

"Stop being in love," said Chris, and Lizzy let out a laugh. The door rang and Chris had disappeared around the corner in an instant.

"I missed you too," Dan said quietly. It was nice, the weight of the other day seemed completely gone. He glanced at where Chris and Lizzy had been standing, but both of them had disappeared by that point.

"So how long have you two been together?" Asked the girl suddenly standing next to Dan, startling him. A black dress hung loose around her, and she didn't seem to be drunk like the other two here.

"Oh, um," was all he said. Were they together? It felt like they were, but they'd never talked about it. Not to mention they hadn't even kissed yet.

"It's complicated," Phil finished, and something in Dan's chest squeezed.

"Oh," she said, messing with her blonde hair. "Well, are you at least gonna introduce me?"

"Oh yeah," Phil said, then took a quick sip from his cup. "Dan, Louise, Louise, Dan."

"I think we might have art together," Dan added sheepishly.

"Oh yeah!" She said. "You did that really cool self portrait right? With the flower crown?"

"Yeah," said Dan, knowing that he was blushing. "You've done some pretty cool stuff too." He didn't remember anything she'd done, but it felt rude not to return the compliment.

"You're thinking of someone else," she said, giggling. "I only took the class cause it's an easy credit."

"Oh," said Dan, not sure how to recover from that.

"Where's Chris?" She asked, saving him. She turned and walked toward the door, and Dan followed, slinking out from under Phil's arm.

Chris had some boy a foot shorter than him pressed against the doorframe, and Dan turned away before he could take in any of the other details. He guessed Chris did like guys, which Pj would be happy to hear, but he still wished he could erase the image from his head

"What's the matter, Howell?" Asked Phil, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he laughed.

"Shut it," said Dan, willing his face to stay neutral. He didn't know what reaction he'd made, but it must've been pretty bad.

"Come on, let's play some games," said Louise, appearing next to Dan. "I'm tired of being the fifth wheel here."

Chris and the other boy came their way, the short one's hair mussed and lips red.

"We were busy," Chris groaned, wrapping his arm around the shorter one.

"You're a terrible host," she chided, sitting cross legged right in the middle of the room. Everyone followed suit after her, forming a circle on the rug in front of the fire place.

"Let's go in a circle and say names first since we have two new faces," she said.

"You're so bossy," said the blonde boy who was clinging to Chris's arm. Dan didn't think he'd ever seen him at school, which made sense when he noticed the crest for the local catholic school on his jacket.

"I can and will kick you out of here," Louise snapped, pointing a glare at him. Her pink lips pursed menacingly.

Dan liked her.

"Whatever," he scoffed, leaning his head on Chris's arm.

"She will," Chris warned, shrugging to push him off. "This might be my house, but I can't stop her," he said with an easy smile and a wink.

"So, names," Louise said, arms crossed.

"Colin," said the obnoxious one, rolling his eyes like a child.

"Chris."

"Phil."

"I'm Dan." He leaned into Phil subconsciously, like he was shielding himself from the others.

"Louise," she finished. "Truth or Dare?" She suggested. Her phone appeared in her hand and started typing something, the glow of the screen shining on her face.

"What's she doing?" Dan whispered, looking up at Phil, his back pressed into the red flannel Phil was wearing.

"Looking up truth or dare questions," he whispered back. "We suck at coming up with stuff so we have a list if we need it."

"That's really said."

"I know," said Phil, the bounce of his chest rattling Dan as he laughed. "But it's more fun this way."

"Okay," said Louise. "Chris, truth or dare."

"Dare," he answered confidently.

She scrolled for a minute, an evil smile blooming on her face when she found a dare. "Text your most recent ex and tell them you have a 'once in a life time business proposition' for them."

Dan stared at him expectantly, waiting. He couldn't tell what Chris was thinking because Phil had started tracing circles on the back of his hand.

Was his last ex Pj? Pj hadn't talked about him in a while and Chris was with this blonde, had something happened?

"What counts as an ex?" Asked Chris, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Last person you slept with that isn't Colin," she said.

"Okay," he said, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "That would be that cheerleader, McKayla. Bottom left on the pyramid."

Colin looked at Chris with squinted eyes. "I didn't know you liked girls."

"Yup," he said matter of factly, clicking his phone off and setting it face down on the carpet. "Problem?" He challenged.

"Nope," said Colin.

Chris's phone pinged, and he picked up. "She blocked me."

"Wonderful," said Louise, sliding her phone over to him. "Your turn."

"Hmm," he said dramatically, waving his finger from person to person while trying to choose. "Daniel?"

"Me?" He said, startled.

"How long have to had the hots for old Philly boy?"

"Give him a break," said Phil, wrapping his arm around Dan. Their skin no longer touching, he heard 'Don't scare him off,' in Phil's voice float through his head. "You didn't even ask truth or dare."

"I pick dare, by the way," Dan interjected, looking Chris dead in the eye. He didn't want to hide behind Phil.

"I dare you to answer the question."

"Chris—" Phil started, but Dan cut him off.

"It's fine," said Dan. "The first time we really talked was at that party, and we've hung out since then," he said shrugging. He wished he had something better, a pretty declaration of love, but that was it. "There wasn't a moment it happened, it just kind of did."

Love wasn't this crazy thing, it was just something that grew between people. Like friendship, just different.

"Boring," Chris grumbled, clearly expecting something more. "Your turn." He slid the phone across the carpet.

"Louise," said Dan, scrolling through the list on the phone. All the questions were way too suggestive, so he asked what she wanted to be when she grew up.

"A mom," she answered, and both Chris and Colin snorted. "What is it?" She demanded.

"Sorry, I just kind of pegged you as a feminist," said Colin. Immediately Dan could see that he shouldn't have said that, because Louise's eyes flashed with anger.

"Feminism doesn't mean rejecting feminine things you sexist prick." She took an exaggerated breath to calm herself and added, "Plus my mom sucks, so I wanna be a good one."

"I get that," Dan said without really meaning to. "With my dad, I mean."

She seemed to brighten up with that, and when they locked eyes Dan could tell that they saw each other.

Phil had one good friend, at least.

"Enough," Chris groaned. "Stop feeling sorry for yourselves, no one has worse mommy issues than me." He said it like a joke, but Dan could tell it was a sore spot. A chink in the armor his arrogance projected.

"Pass the damn phone," Chris said, and Louise took it. A few rounds passed, Colin was dared to lick the refrigerator, Chris revealed that he had, in fact, cheated on someone. Phil was dared to serenade the person to his left, which was Dan, and he sang a lovely rendition of Brittany Spears' Toxic.

Other than the dare Phil was mostly quiet, and got up twice to refill his cup. Dan didn't think he should say anything in front of Phil's friends, but he didn't like how much Phil was drinking. He didn't know if he drove here or not, but the thought still put him on edge.

Finally the phone was back in Dan's hands. "Chris, truth or dare."

"What the hell," he said, shrugging. "Truth."

Dan hesitated. If he was being honest, he was really asking this question to be mean. As a kind of revenge for the shot Chris put him through. For having the audacity to call him slurs and give him black eyes while being bisexual the whole time.

"Do your worst, Howell," Chris said, head cocked in a stand offish way, absently playing with Colin's hair.

That did it. Chris hadn't done anything wrong, not really, but Dan couldn't stand anyone but Phil calling him that.

"What are your mommy issues?" He asked, and there was a pang in his stomach when he saw the way Louise's jaw drop. When he felt Phil tense against him. When Colin shot a piercing glare at him.

Thank god Phil had grabbed his hand because he didn't want to know what they were thinking.

"Fair enough," Chris said cooly, not breaking his stare. "Dear old mum is a very devout Christian," he said in a mocking sing-songy voice. He waved his hand dramatically around the room, gesturing to the Jesus merch all around the room.

"When I was twelve she found me and a boy kissing in my room." He paused for a moment, and for just a second a dark look flashed across his face.

For a split second Dan thought he was going to cry.

But Chris composed himself. "Long story short I went to a summer camp that would straighten me out and got really good at pretending to only like girls around her," he finished with a shrug.

Fuck. Dan messed up. No wonder Chris was such a monster at that age. He hated feeling sorry for someone that hurt him so badly, it made him angrier.

Which made him more guilty.

"Chris, I'm so sorry." He meant it. For asking, for what happened, all of it.

"No, you aren't," Chris snapped. "Truth or dare, Daniel?"

"Maybe we should play something else," said Louise, and Chris didn't even look at her.

"Truth or dare?" He repeated.

"Truth," Dan said as flatly as he could manage. Phil's arm held tight around him, but he couldn't tell if it was to protect him or hold him back.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked with a wicked grin on his face. Like he already knew the answer.

The air around Dan seemed to go still. His face went hot as he tried to think of what to say, and he knew he was just stammering like an idiot.

He deserved this, but he couldn't stand it.

"Is that a yes, then?" Asked Chris, sitting up straighter, seeming to loom above Dan from across the circle. It was just like when he was a kid, that horrible look on Chris' face.

They both knew Dan was cornered. There wasn't anything he could to to protect himself.

So Dan did what he did all those years ago on the playground. He ran.

He'd torn the front door open and bolted before he could hear anyone call out to him, and by then the blood pounding in his ears drowned them out. The air in his lungs was cool from the night, and it stung him from the inside out with every breath.

He had no idea where he was or how long he'd been running when he finally skidded to a stop, gasping to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark, and he squinted about him for some kind of land mark.

Oh.

A swing set loomed in the distance, next to an old rusted structure with fireman poles and slides. He'd made it all the way to the elementary school.

Dan hadn't been here since he was in elementary school. He jogged over to the swings, still sucking air as he collapsed into one.

It gave a rusted groan under his weight, but it was sturdy. He kicked the mulch absently, staring at the brick building across from the building.

The last time he sat here high school felt year and years away, but it had all flown by so quickly. In no time Dan was going to be in college, or working at a gas station, or wherever he went. In no time he'd forget this school, forget this night, everything.

The thought made the hairs on his neck stand.

"Dan?" A voice called out in the distance, and Dan was on his feet in an instant, scanning the dark and praying it was Phil calling his name and not Chris.

Phil emerged out of the shadows of an alley, his silhouette stumbling and swaying as he walked. He saw Dan and waved, then tripped and tumbled to the ground.

"Phil!" Dan yelled, running to where Phil was sprawled out on the asphalt.

"I'm fine, just clumsy." He tried for a laugh and waved his hand for Dan to stop trying to help him up. He pushed himself to a seat, slowly and shakily, but didn't move to go any further.

Dan sat next to him on the ground. Little bits of rock were stuck to the skin on Phil's cheek, and Dan brushed them away. Small craters were left on his pale skin.

"You drank way to much," Dan said, trying his best not to sound accusing.

"No such thing," he said, grinning, but it wasn't funny. It was sad.

"Really, I've done worse," said Phil, which did little to console Dan.

Dan hated it, watching Phil so out of it and not even caring. Between this and Phil's breakdown over his brother, Dan had seen more of Phil than he'd ever expected to. He thought they'd fall in love, and that smile he always seemed to wear would brighten up his world. It would melt away everything else.

He forgot Phil was real in the beginning. But now he was the rock thrower, the stargazer, the reckless driver, and the young drunk. He was all of them at once, the good and the bad.

And Dan had never wanted to kiss him more.

"What was that all about? Back there, with Chris?" Phil asked.

Dan deflated and bit his cheek. There was no use in lying. "Chris beat me up in middle school. A lot."

Phil's eyes got wide, revealing the more of the bloodshot whites. "I didn't know," he said, more breath than voice. He reached for Dan's hand and squeezed. "For what?"

"Looking gay." He didn't even know he liked boys then, but he didn't really like anyone back then. Maybe the hormones hadn't kicked in yet, maybe it was whatever new antidepressant he was trying out. But imagine how he felt when he realized he really was gay, after all that time of being hated just for looking the part.

He squeezed Phil's hand back, relishing the warmth of it against the cold.

"I didn't transfer here until freshman year, did it stop by then?" Phil asked.

Dan blinked at him. "Yeah, it did." He didn't remember Phil had only been here a few years. With the way he climbed the social ladder it seemed like he'd been here all his life. Everyone knew him, everyone liked him.

He wondered for a moment what would've happened if he and Phil had become friends freshman year instead of him and Pj. If he and Phil would still have whatever they had now.

He shook the thought away. It made him uneasy for some reason. "I just hate that Chris is this out and proud guy now. It makes it worse for some reason."

"I didn't realize my best friend was so bad," he said, his voice small. "I knew he could be a jerk sometimes, but I didn't know it was this."

"He's probably changed. It was middle school, don't worry about it," Dan said with a shrug. He wasn't sure he believed it completely, but it felt like the right thing to say.

"Chris's mom works at the school. Mrs. Kendall," Phil said after a while.

Dan's jaw dropped. No wonder Chris was such an ass in middle school. "The lady that—" he started, but remembered himself. He wasn't going to tell Phil that the woman had thought a slur at them, that'd be ridiculous.

"Huh?" Asked Phil, turning to him.

"Never mind," Dan said too quickly. "There's Jupiter, I think," pointing up to an orangish light in the sky that didn't twinkle like the rest of the stars.

They looked up at the sky, looking for only the brightest constellations that fought through the light pollution. It was nothing like the clearing Phil had taken him to.

He hoped they'd go back.

"I don't care that you're a virgin," he said suddenly, startling Dan, who was turning pink in the darkness.

"Are... you?" He asked awkwardly. He couldn't tell what answer he was hoping for.

"No," said Phil, not looking at Dan.

"Cool," said Dan, because he didn't know what else to say. The impulse to add finger guns to the word was hard to fight, but thought it would make this worse.

There was a beat of silence, where neither of them quite knew what to do, but both of them were on the verge of doing something.

And then Phil was leaning in and Dan didn't have time to think before Phil's lips were on his. Dan fell back, his elbows landing hard on the asphalt, and cried out. His arms stung, but he was more startled than injured.

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry," said Phil, slurring, pulling Dan back up. It was only a moment before Dan was crashing back into Phil, smiling against his mouth before kissing him. He grabbed the front of Phil's shirt, pulling him close as his hand snaked into Dan's hair.

Heat surged in Dan's chest, spreading down to the very ends of his fingertips. His skin seemed to vibrate from the adrenaline as he grabbed the back of Phil's neck with one hand, still tugging on his shirt with the other.

His heart stumbled over a few beats as he realized he couldn't hear Phil's thoughts. Was he doing it wrong? With every other partner he had he could tell when he was messing up and fix it.

Phil pulled back, breathing hard and leaving Dan suddenly cold. "What's wrong?" He asked, softly messing with Dan's hair. The look on his face seemed like relief more than anything else.

"Nothing, sorry," said Dan, embarrassed, fidgeting with the top button of Phil's shirt. He stopped when he realized how Phil might take that. "Just nervous."

An easy grin spread across his face. "Don't be," he said, cupping Dan's face and pulling him back into the kiss.

Just then a pair of headlights shone through the dark, and they pulled apart. The engine of it roared through the otherwise silent night as the car passed by them.

"Maybe we should get going," said Phil, watching as the car turned a corner and disappeared. 'Wow,' seemed to be the only thing he could think, which made Dan's stomach flutter.

"Maybe," he said, climbing to his feet and brushing off he jeans. He held out his hand for Phil to take, and he did, but he nearly pulled them both down.

"Careful," Dan said, trying to keep the worry out of his tone.

Phil put his arm around Dan, leaning on him as they walked away from the playground. Dan's head was still reeling, and he tried to make sense of everything. Were they boyfriends now? Would they be open about it at school, or would they have to hide it?

And where the hell were they going?

"Where are we going?"

"Chris's house," Phil said. "My car's there."

"You aren't driving," said Dan, shaking his head. Their shadows grew and they jumped out of the road as another car passed them.

"I'll be fine," he insisted. "I didn't even drink that much."

They came up on Chris's house. Phil's car was the only one left on the street but all the lights were still on inside the house.

"I'll drive," said Dan, and Phil didn't object as they climbed into the car.

They were parked in the lot of Dan's building when Dan realized his mistake. "Shit," he groaned, letting his head fall back against the seat.

Phil startled, as if he'd fallen asleep on the ride and just woken up. "What's wrong?" He asked, rubbing his droopy eyes.

"How are we going to get you and your car home?" He asked, exasperated. He hadn't had an alcoholic friend since Pj first broke up with his ex, and he'd forgotten how exhausting it was.

"I'll just drive, it's not that far," said Phil reaching for the door. He opened it a crack, and the interior lights flicked on.

"No," Dan said, grabbing Phil's arm and pulling him back into the car. They sat in silence until the lights switched off, leaving their eyes swirling as they adjusted to the dark again.

"Well," Dan said. "We can either sneak you into my house until morning, or we can go to your place and I'll tell my mom I'm staying at Pj's." He searched for Phil's expression in the dark, but could only see the outline of him.

"I don't think we should go to mine," Phil whispered. Dan couldn't see him, but he knew that Phil wasn't meeting his eye.

"Okay," Dan said, pulling the key from the ignition and opening the door. He circled to the other side to grab Phil before he could face plant again, hugging his waist as they walked into the building.

The empty lobby wasn't much warmer than it had been outside. White bulbs washed out the dingy furniture scattered about the room and the front desk was empty like it almost always was. A huge and obvious security camera stuck out of the ceiling above it.

Dan wasn't sure it was real, or it it was just there to scare off potential criminals.

Phil groaned and shielded his eyes from the sudden light. If his eyes were closed he wouldn't see the ugly green wallpaper or what a mess Dan's building was, which was a slight relief.

They got into the elevator, and Phil bobbed his head playfully to the terrible music humming through the speakers, and quickly got dizzy and almost fell over. It would have been funny if there wasn't a ball of anxiety building in Dan's chest.

There was no way he'd pull this off.

The cables groaned as the elevator arrived on Dan's floor and the doors opened. They walked into the hallway, the walls a yellowing beige and the floors stiff gray carpeting that muffled their footsteps.

"Lean against the wall for a second," said Dan when they reached his door.

Phil fell back too hard, causing a thunk that reverberated through the empty corridor. "Sorry," he mouthed, giggling, his blue eyes squinting.

Dan shook his head and leaned his ear against the door, trying to listen for his mom's thoughts over everyone else's coming through the thin walls. He didn't remember seeing his dad's car in the lot, so it was a possibility that she was still awake and waiting for him.

He hoped she wasn't. It was nearly three; if it was this late he wasn't coming home. Passed out at the office or some bar, no doubt.

"Is it safe?" Phil asked, pressing his ear to the door next to Dan. Their noses were mere inches apart, and Dan pulled away. If his mom saw them that close this whole situation would be ten times worse.

"I think so," Dan whispered, then pulled his key out of his pocket. He cringed as the lock made a deafening click, then opened the door as slowly as he could, cursing the squeaky hinges.

The living room and kitchen were dark, and the door to his parents' bedroom was closed. He let out a sigh of relief, and motioned for Phil to follow him in. The hall to his room wasn't long at all, they'd be there in no time and his mom was no where to be seen.

Phil banged his hip into the dining table, cursing loudly. Dan whirled around, eyes wide as he saw light peaking under the door behind Phil, who was doubled over and holding his side.

The door sung open, and a second later the lights of the room were flipped on. Dan's mom, curly hair pulled into a ponytail on top of her head and hands on her pajama clad hips stood in the doorway, looking between the two boys in her kitchen.

"Daniel, would you like to explain what's going on?" She said, gesturing to Phil, who was fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and not making eye contact with her.

"I can explain."

"Oh, you better," she said with a humorless laugh. "Well?" Her thoughts floated from excuse to excuse Dan might try to pull on her, and Dan knew she wouldn't buy it if he said any of them.

"Mom, this is Phil," he said, stalling as he tried to think of what to say.

"Pleasure," she said to him.

"Pleasure is all mine," he slurred, leaning his hand on the table and flashing a charming smile. His hand slipped, and he knocked over one of the chairs, which crashed skittered on the tile.

"Why's he here?"

Dan hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided that lying would make it worse. "He got really drunk and so I drove him here, but I can't drive him to his house without having to walk home," he said, and her expression softened ever so slightly. "I was just gonna sneak him in for tonight."

'I'd drive him home but Bill has the car,' she thought, her voice thick with something Dan couldn't quite place. "Did you drink anything?"

"No," he said, and he hadn't.

"Come here," she said, snapping her fingers like he was a dog.

He sighed and stalked over to his mom while glancing over at Phil, who was busy picking up the chair he'd knocked over.

She grabbed his face by the chin, searching his eyes for whatever she thought she'd find. Apparently he passed, because she said "Go to sleep," with a sigh and shooed him away. "Food in the fridge if you're hungry, water, you know the drill." She finished with a yawn as she turned and stride back into her room, slamming the door on them. 

Phil softly called a 'Thank you' to her as Dan grabbed his sleeve and lead the way to his bedroom.

As soon as Dan opened the door Phil collapsed on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers. Dan flicked on the light and Phil groaned as he rolled to face the other way.

"I have clothes if you want to change," he said, but Phil just shook his head, eyes squeezed shut agains the light.

Dan changed into pajamas out in the hall bathroom, still wary of changing in front of Phil. He'd get over that eventually, but after everything tonight he didn't want to push it.

When Dan came back into the room Phil's shoes were thrown on the floor and he was under the covers, but he didn't even twitch as Dan crawled into bed beside him. Dan squeezed himself as close to the edge as he could. They'd kissed, sure, but bed sharing was territory Dan wasn't all that comfortable with yet.

He didn't know how long had passed but it felt like hours. His neighbors' sleeping thoughts were seeping in through the walls, keeping him awake. Not to mention how he held his breath every time Phil shifted or mumbled in his sleep, waiting to see if he would wake up.

Suddenly an arm was flung over his chest and he was dragged into the center of the bed, pressed against Phil's chest his nose pressed against Dan's neck. Every muscle in Dan's body tensed, and he debated whether or not trying to slip out of Phil's grasp would wake him.

His internal debate ended when he realized that he couldn't hear the thoughts anymore. It was an odd sensation, everything being so quiet and dark at the same time. He'd never slept without a chorus of thoughts he overheard, no matter how loud he played his music in his ears. It made him feel weightless in Phil's arms.

There was also the ecstasy of being held by Phil Lester, the rock thrower, the stargazer, the reckless driver, and the young drunk.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, so it's been like 12 years since i last updated, sorry about that. i'm going to really try to update consistently, and to accomplish that i'm not going to edit the chapters before i post them. hopefully you're okay with that, if not then sorry. okay, enjoy the chapter.

Dan woke up to the roar of thunder rattling the windowpanes. The dim gray light of the sun through the clouds filled his room with silver glares that shone as he rubbed his eyes and squinted around him.

It took him a moment to remember what had happened the night before as he took in the tall raven haired boy looking through the stack of canvases in the corner of his room, the clothes he'd been wearing the night before rumpled and clinging to his slender frame.

It took him a moment longer to focus enough to hear what Phil was thinking. 'Is that me?' Phil's voice rang clearly through his mind.

Dan was on his feet in an instant, pulsing with adrenaline when he realized what picture Phil had stumbled upon. "Don't look at that," Dan gasped.

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine," he said, turning to Dan. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and he had a vague frown etched on his face, like he was in pain. "Why not?"

"Just give it back," he groaned, his voice hoarse from sleep. He lunged for it, but Phil twisted to keep the painting out of his grasp. Phil probably thought he was crazy, or a stalker, or something equally as bad, but he couldn't tell as he wrapped his arms around Phil to grab for the picture.

"It's really good, I just wanna look at it!" Said Phil. Finally, Dan relented, crossing his arms over his chest and suddenly aware of how messy he looked. Overlarge shirt, rumpled pajama pants, and hair that probably rivaled Phil's in defying gravity.

"Thank you," said Phil, and he held the painting at an arm's length to examine it.

It was a scene from the first night they met, Phil standing on the porch of the house the party was at, an arm cocked back holding a rock and a beer clutched in the other hand. He'd drawn it in his sketchbook a few days after it happened, but that hadn't felt like enough. He put the scene to paint, blending his figure with acrylic until the shadows looked just right.

"I love it," Phil said finally, a wide smile on his face. "I can't believe you made this."

"Thanks," Dan said, running his hand through his hair self-consciously.

Phil set the picture back into the stack with the others. "I didn't mean to invade your privacy, I just woke up before you and got bored," he said. "You're really talented."

"I expect a feature film in my honor, Lester," he said, poking Phil in the shoulder.

Phil laughed, shoving Dan's hand away. "When I do, you'll be the first to see it," he said, grinning, blue eyes shining.

The moment didn't last long before Phil winced and collapsed onto Dan's bed, laying on his back with his hands pressed to his temples. "I've got the worst headache," he groaned.

Dan sat on the bed, the reached out to ruffle Phil's hair tenderly. "You shouldn't have drunk so much," he said softly, relishing the feel of Phil's hair on his fingers.

Phil didn't respond. After a moment he pulled himself to a seat and faced Dan, bloodshot eyes wide and solemn, their ankles brushing. "Can we talk about last night?" He asked, not meeting Dan's eyes.

Dan held his breath, not willing to back away even if it meant hearing Phil's thoughts. This was the moment Phil told him they wouldn't work out, that it wasn't Dan's fault, but whatever they were couldn't go on. He'd known it was coming, ever since that morning after the car incident when Phil asked him to keep quiet.

When Phil let him down, he'd let him down easy. Phil's thoughts might not be sugar coated, and Dan knew he wouldn't be able to handle that.

A streak of lightning flashed outside, and Phil seemed to jump. Dan couldn't help but crack a smile, thinking that someone like Phil would be afraid of storms.

He'd be sure to tease Phil about it some other time, if they didn't break off whatever was happening between them right now.

"Yeah, what is it?" Dan asked, willing the waver in his voice to still.

"What... what are we?" He asked softly, finally looking at Dan.

Dan stared numbly for a moment before answering. He'd been expecting the worst, and this certainly wasn't it, but he still wasn't sure how this would turn out. "What do you want us to be?" He asked quietly.

Phil gave a long sigh, clearly stalling, prolonging the inevitable. "Boyfriends?" He said, nearly a whisper, messing with the cuff of his sleeve as he looked down.

The tightness in Dan's chest released, and he laughed out loud. Why was Phil so nervous? Of course Dan wanted them to be together, hadn't he made it obvious?

"What?" Asked Phil, a vague sense of fear in his voice.

"Of course that's what I want," said Dan, blushing.

He'd barely gotten the words words out before Phil's lips were on his. He tasted of stale beer and morning breath, but he was so relieved that Phil felt the same about him that he didn't care. Phil's hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing figure eights with his thumb.

Dan couldn't help but smile against Phil's mouth as he wrapped his arms around Phil's neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Soft and slow, they fell into an easy rhythm and stayed like that. Minutes or hours could've passed, and it would've meant no difference to them.

"Dan! Are you awake?" His mom yelled from the kitchen.

Dan and Phil reflexively pulled apart, both of them flushed with heat and breathing hard. "Yeah," he called back between strained breaths, hoping that she couldn't hear them through the thin walls.

"I made breakfast!"

"We'll be out in a minute," he yelled, then turned to Phil. If his face looked anything like Phil's, then he'd be grinning like an idiot.

"Do you want to borrow something?" Dan asked. "You've been wearing those for a day."

"Sure," said Phil, and Dan got up to grab the first t-shirt and sweatpants he could find from his drawer and tossed them to Phil.

"You're a slytherin?" He asked, regarding the green and silver shirt in his hands with disgust.

"Yeah, what're you?"

"Hufflepuff," he said, unbuttoning the flannel he was currently wearing.

"At least I'm not the reject house," said Dan, trying not to stare as Phil threw the shirt to the ground, revealing his pale chest and stomach.

Phil threw the t-shirt on a moment later, and if he noticed Dan staring he didn't mention it.

"Boys!" His mom yelled, and Dan stood up awkwardly.

"I'll tell her you'll be out in a minute," he said, rushing out the door.

"Dan, wait, come back for a second," he said, and Dan came back into the room tentatively.

"Are you out to her?" He whispered.

Dan shook his head, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. He didn't have a reason to not be out, not like Phil did. What would he think?

"Okay," was all Phil said, nodding. "I just didn't want to..." he trailed off, but Dan knew what he meant.

"Yeah, thanks," he said tensely, then left and shut the door.

The sweet smell of maple hit him as soon as he walked into the kitchen. His mom stood at the stove, more dressed up than she normally would be on a Saturday morning, pouring batter into a pan. A stack of pancakes stood high on a plate beside her, and every window was open and letting in sunlight.

"Good morning," she said, using her wrist to sweep a curl out of her face as her hands were caked in flour. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," said Dan, feeling like he was floating as he squeezed past her to get to the fridge. He grabbed the orange juice and set it on the counter to twist off the lid. "You look nice," he added, before taking a sip straight out of the carton.

"Don't do that, your friend might want some."

Dan couldn't help but smirk. He didn't think Phil would care, but he couldn't say that. "It was already contaminated," he said with a shrug.

She shook her head in disgust as she expertly flipped the pancake she was cooking. "Speaking of which, how long have you two been friends?"

Dan froze for a second. Lightning flashed outside, lighting up the room as the power went out. The lights flickered on a few seconds later, and the crash of thunder that followed shook the whole apartment.

"Wow, that one was close," he said, striding to the window to peak around the curtain. Heavy rain blocked the view, and he could barely even see the parking lot two stories down.

"You didn't answer me."

"I don't know, a month or two," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. Did she suspect them already? "Why?"

"Just wondering," she said. 'Because you've only talked to Pj for the last two years,' she thought.

Dan should've been hurt by that, but it was true.

Phil came into the kitchen, and Dan's chest tightened at the sight of Phil in his clothes. They were nearly the same size, so they didn't look out of place, but it still felt strange. Girls in movies were always borrowing their boyfriend's sweatshirts.

And Phil was his boyfriend. It felt weird to even think that.

"It smells amazing in here," said Phil, flashing a smile at Dan's mom.

"There's coffee on the counter," she said, gesturing to the coffee pot. "I imagine you have a pretty rough hangover from how you looked last night."

Phil seemed at a loss for words for a moment, which he almost never was. "Yes ma'am, thank you," he said finally.

Dan grabbed a mug out of the cabinet for Phil and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed for a moment, and his skin felt electric where they touched. He coughed to cover up whatever dumb look had crossed his face and rushed to the other side of the counter.

Breakfast was going to be hell if he kept being all nervous and giddy every time he got near Phil. There was no way his mom wouldn't catch on to them.

"Do you drink often?" She asked, carrying plates to the table and setting them in front of three chairs.

"Mom," said Dan, trying to cut her off.

"Dan," she said back, her gaze piercing over her glasses. Dan knew if he didn't shut up things would get ugly, so he bit his tongue.

"Sometimes," Phil said, meeting her stare. Maybe she'll appreciate the honesty, Dan heard him think, and he was right. Lying was

"Dan, get the syrup from the fridge," she said, turning back to retrieve the pancakes from the kitchen. "Does your mom know your'e here? Should I call her?" She asked in the same tone, as if her interrogation were as normal as asking Dan to grab something.

"I live with my dad," said Phil, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The burble of it hitting the mug was the only sound for a few moments. "And he won't care," he added.

Dan looked between them, clutching the bottle of syrup tight in his hand, praying the barrage of questions would end. He'd never seen her like this, though he'd never brought a friend home drunk at 3 am before either. Of course she thought Phil was bad news.

"Breakfast is ready," she said finally, her voice stiff.

They sat and dug in silently, the tension between each of them palpable. Dan listened to Phil think up ways to get on his mom's good side, and to his mom wondering why out of all the new friends Dan could've made he chose Phil. And Dan couldn't say a word about it.

"These are really good, Mrs. Howell," said Phil, his smile easy despite the situation.

"Thank you," she said, squinting at him as if she were trying to read him. She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but the front door opened, and she stood up so suddenly she knocked her chair over.

"Morning," said Dan's dad as he shut the door behind him. His hair was wet and clinging to his forehead, and even from where Dan was sitting he could see the dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his briefcase right by the door as if it was too heavy to hold for a moment longer.

"I made breakfast, darling," said Dan's mom, whirling through the kitchen to grab a plate, a mug. In seconds she'd fixed a plate and poured a cup of coffee, but he was shaking his head and lumbering toward their room.

"I'm going to sleep for a while, but thank you," he said, not looking at her. He didn't even notice that there was an extra person at the breakfast table.

He disappeared into his room, and Dan's mom returned to the table, her face red. "I think I'll join you," she called to him. She grabbed her plate off the counter, rushed into the kitchen to dump it into the sink. "I'm sorry about this," she said softly to Dan, then kissed his forehead. "It was nice meeting you, Phil," she added, then disappeared into the bedroom.

Dan glanced over to Phil. He had a sad kind of smile on his face as he stared at the closed door across the room. 'I've seen this before,' Dan heard him think.

Dan sighed as he grabbed Phil's hand under the table. The signs had been there for a while, but it was still hard to face them. No matter how many dinners his mom made, how often she threw down everything to spend time with him, it couldn't fix their marriage.

He hated watching her try to hold on while his dad slipped away more than he hated watching his dad slip away. Hell, if his dad up and left tomorrow, he'd hardly notice.

"I'm sorry," Phil whispered, squeezing Dan's hand.

"Don't worry about it." He shook his head, then glanced down at the plates in front of them. "You didn't eat much."

Phil groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I got so wasted last night, I'd just throw it up."

Dan modded, still staring down at the table. He kept his eyes open so long he started seeing galaxies swirling at the edges of his vision.

"Do you want to drive around for a bit? Like to get your mind off things?" Asked Phil.

Dan smiled and met his eyes. "I'd like that."

They headed down to the main floor, the space between them lessening until they were sprinting from the building to the parking lot with their shoulders flush together. Dan jumped into the drivers seat, shivering as he gripped the wheel.

A few hours passed, and Dan stepped out of the car and into the rain of the parking lot, Phil tugging at his sleeve. Dan couldn't suppress the smile as Phil pulled him back into the car for one last kiss. Rain dripped from his hair onto the steering wheel, the seat, and outside it pounded against the roof, shaking the whole car.

Dan was walking on air as he pulled away, his heart physically aching as he made his way to his apartment.

He raced through his little home, his mom no where to be found as he skidded into his bedroom and tore open the blinds.

Phil waved from the driver's seat, then blew a kiss up to Dan before putting the car in reverse and backing the out of the parking lot.

His heart fluttered as he watched Phil go.

The spell broke when he heard his mom's shrill yell through the walls. He couldn't quite make out the words, but he didn't hesitate before diving for the headphones lying on his desk. He didn't want their thoughts in his head, shattering the feeling of weightlessness leftover from his morning with Phil.

He tried to remember the songs they'd listened to on the drive when they went stargazing. He settled on putting on a muse album, because he knew Phil liked it.

He could hear the screaming match in his head, their thoughts banging into his skull, but every time they got louder he turned up the volume. He considered calling Phil, to distract himself, but didn't want to seem desperate.

The memory of him would have to do for now.

The rain hadn't let up much by Tuesday, and Dan listened to it patter on the asphalt outside the art room. The teacher had left the room to get rubrics off the printer, and Dan tapped his pencil on the table, waiting to get his hands on a paintbrush and get lost in the rhythm of painting.

He'd scarcely seen his dad the last couple of days, and the long work days seemed to wearPhil had a cold and hadn't been at school yesterday, and if he was here today he'd yet to cross paths with Dan.

And Dan still couldn't bring himself to tell Pj about him and Phil. Dan had his first real boyfriend, and he was too worried about his parents to tell his best friend about it.

Dan hated his dad. The best thing that's ever happened to Dan happened, and immediately his dad ruined it. In that classroom, watching stream down the window, he didn't care if his dad left. Wanted him gone, even. 

"Hey," said a voice, snapping Dan out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Louise pulling up a chair next Dan at the table.

"Oh hey, Louise," he said, brushing his hair out of his face self-consciously.

"That wasn't cool what you did to Chris," she said, focused on getting her sketchbook and pencils out of her backpack.

Dan's stomach dropped. The looks she'd flashed him when he said it made him regret the question instantly, and that same wave of shame was bubbling in his chest right now. "I can explain," he started, but she held up a hand to silence him, still digging through her bag with the other one.

"I talked to Phil, told him you were bad news," she said, setting a palette of water colors onto the desk. "He told me about Chris in middle school, so I'm willing to ignore how shitty what you did was."

She finally faced him, and her stare wasn't malicious or kind. It just was. "I think we could still be friends."

"I'd like that," Dan said, nodding, relieved. "And it was shitty, what I did."

"Yeah," she said. The art teacher, Ms. Carol, came into the room then, and quickly passed around the rubrics she'd printed. Her eyes lingered on Dan and Louise for just a second longer, and she seemed to smile a bit as she turned away from them.

"Get whatever medium you want," she said, standing at the front of her room, a long blue sweater draped around her and brushing the floor. "Follow the instructions, unless you think of something better." She waved her hand, motioning them to get started.

"I'll grab a canvas for you," she said, standing up and twirling away too quickly for him to protest.

He grabbed his paint brushes and the colors he wanted and returned to his table, where a canvas and easle were set up in his place. Louise was already sketching something on watercolor paper.

They sat in silence, Louise sketching and Dan studying the rubric for inspiration, for a few minutes. The rain outside pattered lightly on the roof and people sitting near each other chattered quietly.

"I was in love with Phil once too," Louise said suddenly.

Dan looked at her, open mouthed. "Really? When?" He asked.

She laughed dryly. "Freshman year, first day I saw him. I was head over heels." She shook her head as she swirled her brush in a cup of water to clean it.

Dan laughed, but trailed off uncertainly. "Why are you telling me this?"

She just shrugged. "I don't know. It's something we have in common, right?"

"I guess so," Dan said. He heard 'Come on just tell him,' ring through his head in her voice.

He tapped his pencil against the table, bracing himself for whatever she was about to say.

"Look," she said. "Phil's gone through a lot the past couple years. If you aren't serious about him, if you're just going to leave him..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "I'm not gonna let you hurt him."

Dan blinked, the tap of his pencil freezing. "I'm so serious about him. Does he think I'm not?"

"No," she said. "He really likes you, I think. I want us to be friends, but if you're just messing around I need you break things off with him now before it gets out of hand."

"No, really," he said, shaking his head. "It's just..." he trailed off. Who did he even express how he felt about Phil? Every other crush he'd had was surface level, and it fizzled away as soon as he saw who they really were.

Not Phil. He wanted to press his ear against Phil's chest and listen to his heart beat until he understood everything there was to understand about him. Dan wanted to see every little part, the secrets he kept hidden under black hair dye and the smile he always wore.

"Okay." Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and she had a smirk on her lips. "I believe you."

"I didn't say anything."

"That look on your face says enough," she said, returning to her work. She swirled her brush in a cup of water and dipped it into the blue paint on her pallet. "But if you hurt him I won't hesitate to hurt you."

"Got it," he said, grinning.

They talked through the rest of class, about tv shows they loved and classes they hated. Dan wasn't close to finished with his painting, but Louise had a white butterfly with a blue and purple background by the end of it that was really pretty despite its simplicity.

As soon as the bell rang she was rushing out of the room, calling "See you around" over her shoulder as she bounced away.

"Bye," he called, but she was already gone.

Pj was already in the art room when he got there for lunch, both of them needed to work on their current art projects if they wanted to meet the deadline. The constant rain pressed against his head like a brick on either side, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. All the voices ricocheting through his head weren't helping matters much either.

Dan wondered idly if Phil would feel better when the weather brightened up. Phil seemed like the kind of person who thrived in sunshine.

Pj was hunched over a page, an ink pen in hand, carefully tracing thick black lines. His glasses sat on the desk beside him. Ever since he was little Pj claimed he drew better with just his eyes, even though he couldn't read a book that way.

Dan waited in the doorway, knowing Pj would never forgive him if he snuck up and caused Pj to mess up his art.

Pj set the pen down to shake out his wrist, and Dan traipsed over to set his bag in a chair.

"Ink is risky," said Dan, turning to grab his canvas from where it sat on a table in the back of the room. The background would be dry by now, which would make the next layer of the piece easier.

"I wanted a challenge," he said, taking his glasses from the table to put them on. He blinked up at Dan, his green eyes droopy with heavy eyelids.

"And I wanted a safety net," said Dan, waving a tube of acrylic paint as he came back to the table. "Where's Ms. Carole?"

"Teacher meeting." He glanced about the room for a moment. "You know the winter dance?"

"Is that already?" Asked Dan, setting up his easel. This time of year always passed too quickly for him to keep up with anything. It was already late November, and school would be out for Christmas in less than a month.

"Yeah," said Pj. 'I need to ask Chris to the dance, but I don't know how to say that.'

Dan looked up at Pj and noticed he was scratching the sides of his thumbs, one of his nervous habits. There were times where his skin was scratched raw.

"What about the dance?" Asked Dan, trying not to look suspicious. He took out brown and red and did his best to replicate the color he'd started with earlier.

"Are you going with Phil?"

Dan bit his tongue, guilt pooling in his stomach. He still hadn't told Pj about him and Phil, and they'd been officially dating for three whole days. He'd never kept anything this big from Pj before.

'Of course you are,' Pj thought.

"We haven't talked about it," Dan said, adding more brown to the mix. He couldn't get it right; he might just have to paint over everything with the new color.

"Hey, about Phil," he started, but the door opened and Dan jumped.

Phil Lester, hair as messy as always and features as relaxed as ever, waltzed into the room.

"Speak of the devil," said Pj, eyebrows raised as he watched Phil take the seat next to Dan.

"I thought you were sick," said Dan, smiling despite himself as Phil leaned in to kiss him.

Phil's mouth was soft against his, and their noses brushed together. Phil's hand came to rest on Dan's thigh, sending electricity through his skin all the way up his spine and into his fingertips. He felt so awake, so on fire, after only a few moments.

Pj cleared his throat, snapping Dan out of his trance. He pulled away and wiped his mouth with his sleeve self consciously. "We're at school," he said, his voice catching as he spoke.

"No one's here," said Phil, grinning.

"I'm here," Pj said, his voice short. "Dan and I have work to do."

"It's okay, we have loads of time." Dan glared daggers at Pj, trying to communicate with his eyes, but Pj crossed his arms and glared right back. 'You sneaky bastard,' he scowled in his head.

Dan was in trouble. "So you're feeling better?" Dan asked, turning back to Phil.

"Yeah, I just had a killer migraine," he said with a shrug. "I'm good now though." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

'Please don't question it,' he pleaded, and Dan didn't press. It didn't take a genius to guess that it was leftover hangover that had kept Phil home yesterday.

"I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Well I have work to do, so if you two lovebirds want to get out of here that's fine by me," Pj said.

Phil raised his eyebrows at Dan, and Dan nodded solemnly. "I'll call you later," he said.

Phil pecked his cheek, then stood to leave. "Okay," he said, heading to the door.

He hesitated at the threshold, then turned around and waved at Dan. Sparks lit in his chest as we waved back. With one last flashing smile, Phil slipped out and the door shut behind him.

"What was that about?" Asked Dan, his voice louder than he meant it to be.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He grabbed his pen from the table and ripped the cap off with his teeth.

"Wait, just talk with me for a minute," Dan said in a rush. He didn't want Pj to mess up all his hard work just because he was mad at Dan. He couldn't deal with that.

"When were you going to tell me?" He demanded, snapping the cap back on the pen and slamming it onto the table.

"Literally right before he walked in," said Dan, shaking his head. "Why are you so upset about this?"

"If I found someone I would've told you immediately, and you know that," Pj snapped. Before Dan could say anything Pj was on his feet and heading to the supplies table.

'You won't need me if you have him.'

"Of course I'll still need you." Pj's head snapped up, and he turned around, the look on his face melting from anger to shock right before Dan's eyes.

Dread was heavy in his chest as Pj stalked back to the table. How did he explain his way out of this? He'd never screwed up this bad, revealed himself so obviously.

There was no recovery from this.

"I didn't say you wouldn't need me," said Pj, squinting at Dan.

"I just assumed—"

"No, no way." A wicked grin bloomed on his face, and Dan's chest tightened with every moment of silence between them.

"You have goddamn superpowers and you never told me?" Pj yelled.

"Shut up!" Dan sputtered, glancing around the room as if someone were there to hear them. "I mean, of course I don't, that's crazy."

'I'm in love with you, Dan,' Pj thought, the voice ringing loud and clear in Dan's head.

Dan blanched, his mouth open, his blood suddenly cold.

"I knew it! You heard that!" He cheered, pumping a fist in the air. When the look on Dan's face didn't change, Pj groaned and pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. "I'm not in love with you, idiot, I just wanted your attention."

"Thank god," Dan choked. He would've killed Pj for that if he wasn't still in shock.

'Do you listen to everything?' Pj asked, fingers pressed to his temples, face stone with concentration.

There wasn't any use in trying to save face. "I don't mean to," he mumbled, staring all around the room at anything that wasn't Pj.

'This is so cool!' Pj's voice clanged through his head, startling him.

"You're... not mad?"

"Mad?" Pj laughed. "My best friend could read minds, why would I be mad?"

"Well, keep your voice down," Dan said, the weight on his chest lifting. "I don't want to be taken away and dissected or whatever."

"No one's in here, don't worry," he said, fidgeting with the drawstring of his bright green hoodie. "Can you do anything else?"

"No, just this."

"When did it start?"

"Always been this way. No radioactive spider or anything."

"Oh," said Pj, looking mildly disappointed. It only lasted a moment before a wicked grin bloomed across his face.

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no," said Dan, pinching the bridge of his nose. The last few minutes were enough stress to knock him out for a month, he didn't think he could deal with one of Pj's schemes.

"You can listen to Chris' thoughts to see if he has a crush on me! Then I'll know if I should ask him to the dance!"

"That's not a good idea," said Dan, but he could tell by the look on Pj's face there wasn't a way out of it. Chris had been with another guy just a few days ago, and he didn't want Pj to get his hopes up.

But then again, he hadn't seen Pj that excited in a while.

"We'll corner him after school tomorrow, and you can dig through his brain to see if I'm in there!" He beamed and adjusted his glasses, his green eyes flashing behind the lenses. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He said, deflating a little.

"Nothing," Dan said too quickly, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat and asked, "But what if he doesn't like you that way?"

"I'm stunning, of course he will."

Dan couldn't help but laugh.

"And if not, I'll make a list of guys for you to eavesdrop on. There's got to be one that likes me."

"Hold on," said Dan, pushing his fringe out of his face. "You were mad at me for keeping Phil a secret for two days, but not for keeping this from you for my whole life?"

"This is so much cooler," he said, shrugging.

Dan had the sudden urge to strangle Pj, but the bell rang.

"Shit, gotta go," he said, scooping up his backpack and rushing to the door. "Tomorrow after school, we can text to figure out other details. Bye!"

Dan watched as his best friend bounced out of the art room. If he was a good friend he would've told Pj about Colin then and there, but he couldn't do it.

Pj's picture and ink pens were still all over the table, along with Dan's painting and paints. He sighed and got to his feet, scooping up all his paints and brushes. He didn't even get a chance to work on his project.

He circled around to the other end of the table and froze when he saw the picture Pj left. The background was an intricate web of black lines, and the white space in the middle made the outline of two boys sitting on a park bench, trees surrounding them. One was obviously Pj, with curls piling on his head outlined by black ink. The other one was a silhouette Dan didn't quite recognize.

He stared at it until the next bell rang and snapped him out of his daze. He grabbed the drawing and put it in Pj's folder on the back table and quickly cleaned everything else, then rushed to his next class. It wasn't until he was sitting through a history lecture and fighting to focus with all the voices in his head that he realized he never told Pj about Phil silencing his power.

But that could wait for another day. Right now, he just needed to worry about whatever plan Pj was going to drag him into tomorrow.

And he wouldn't admit it, but it was nice to be able to share the burden with someone else.


	8. Chapter 8

"I just want you to know that I hate everything about this," Dan grumbled, shivering against the wind in a t shirt, watching the bare trees in the schoolyard shiver with him. He couldn't remember why he ditched the normal hoodie that morning, but he regretted it.

"Yeah, but you like me more than you hate this," said Pj, leaning against the wall beside him. The hood of a black hoodie covered all but a few stray curls on his forehead, dark sunglasses shaded his eyes. To top off the look he'd worn the only pair of black shoes he had: dress shoes from freshman choir.

"Debatable," Dan chided. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, then added, "You look like a depressed bank robber."

"This is exactly how you dress."

"Ouch."

"It's not even cold," Pj gestured to Dan's bare arms, "and you have goosebumps."

"Immunity to the elements isn't a power I have," Dan replied, crossing his arms to conserve heat.

"Whatever." Pj pulled his sleeve up to check his watch. "Alright, T minus 5 minutes," he said, clapping Dan on the shoulder and disappearing behind the corner of the school. With one of them on each wall, Dan could watch one door while Pj watched the other to make sure they caught Chris.

"Stop talking like that," Dan called. He glanced at the overcast sky, the slightest hint of sun peaking through a break in the clouds. One was vaguely shaped like a whale, swimming at the pace of a crawl against the gray sky.

"Do you remember the plan?" Pj asked, just his nose and the front of his glasses peeking out from behind the brick.

"Yes, Pj, we've gone over it a hundred times."

"You ask him about Mr. Johnson's history assignment."

"Pj I know the plan--"

"I have that class with him so he might think about me, and if you get nothing from that I'll send you a text and you can say 'Oh, Pj is texting me,'" he continued, bringing his voice up an octave for the last part.

"I don't sound like that," Dan groaned.

"You do."

"You better be nice to me, I'm the one with the superpowers." He caught a glimpse at his hands and noticed little reddish lines winding from his fingertips to his wrists, then shoved them into his pockets. They were ice against his thighs.

He told himself it was just the cold and tried to steady his breath, long inhales of the chilled November air. He hadn't even seen Chris since the party the other day, and couldn't imagine what he had to say about it. Dan guessed it was nothing good. 

"And if he doesn't like me, I'll find someone else to crush on and you can pick his brain to see if I'm in there."

"You can't rely on me to be your own personal Cupid forever."

"Watch me," he sang, and though Dan couldn't see him, he could imagine the smug look that was probably plastered on Pj'

Just to mess with him, Dan tried to listen into Pj's thoughts, but the only thing in there was some Radiohead song he couldn't remember the name of.

The bell rang, just barely audible from outside. "Get ready, and act natural," Pj called.

Dan rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze on his door. Tens of teenagers anxious to get home burst through the doors, shoving their way through to the parking lot, but none of them were Chris. None of them were Phil, either, but he tried his best not to focus on every shock of black hair for too long.

"Now! Switch with me!" Pj called, suddenly in front of him, a couple of loose curls sticking out from his black hood, glasses askew on his nose reddening in the cold. "Good luck," he said, grabbing Dan by the shoulders and shoving him into the crowd coming from the other door.

He spun around just in time to collide with Chris, knocking a book out of Chris's hand and sending himself sprawling across the sidewalk. The concrete left stinging scrapes on the palms of his hands.

"Shit, sorry!" Dan scrambled for the book, and the crowd around him parted as he reached for it. A sea of moving legs surrounded him as Chris reached his hand out.

"That was my fault, sorry," Chris said, pulling Dan to his feet. When they were at eye level Chris's hand tensed against Dan's, his expression suddenly sharp.

"Oh," said Chris, releasing Dan's hand to snatch the book from his other. "It's you."

"Yeah," said Dan, voice cracking. He cleared his throat before saying, "Look, I'm sorry about the other day."

'What the hell is he talking about,' Dan heard unmistakably in Pj's voice, and he cringed as he heard it. Pj was going to hear all of this, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"Don't worry about it." He brushed Dan's shoulder as he headed to the parking lot.

"Chris, wait!" He yelled, rushing to catch up.

Chris groaned dramatically and spun around, and crossed his arms over his chest. His sunken-in eyes were suddenly piercing. "What?"

"I really am sorry. I didn't know about all of that," said Dan. He forced himself to look Chris in the eyes as he waited for a response, but with every second that passed his head pounded harder and harder. He didn't know why he was so scared. This wasn't middle school, Chris wasn't going to beat him to a pulp.

"Whatever," he scoffed, but after a moment his expression softened. "I'm sorry about the virgin thing."

Dan heard Pj sputter in his mind, and wished more than anything that Phil was there to smother all the voices in his head.

"You have to admit it was funny though."

"Fuck off," Dan said, exasperated but laughing despite himself. A grin broke out on Chris' face, and for a moment everything was fine.

'Just like old times,' Chris thought, and it broke something in Dan.

"You know, you really fucked me up." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He didn't even realize he'd said them until the good-natured look on Chris's face fell back to anger, until the pain of his fingernails digging into the palms of his shaking fists registered.

Chris's shock faded in a sighed puff of white aid. "Yeah," he said, messing with his hair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he repeated, then tried for a charming grin. "Internalized homophobia's a bitch."

"I'd know, I had to act straight to avoid getting pummeled everyday."

"Look, I'm sorry," Chris snapped, eyes flashing. "I'd spent the entire summer before that at conversion camp," he said, voiced dropped to a whisper as people passed them. "My mom wouldn't even look at me during family therapy."

"That still doesn't change," Dan said, but trailed off. He couldn't think of what to say. It wasn't Chris' fault, but Dan's blood was still boiling and he couldn't get it to cool.

"I know," Chris said. "I know." 'I just hurt everyone, don't I?' he thought, falling back and letting the wall hold him up, like the weight of the guilt was too much. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and flicked the lid open in one swift motion. "Cigarette?"

Dan stared at the Marlboro box for a long moment before saying, "We're right outside the school, we can get expelled for that."

"My mom's on the school board, they wouldn't."

"My mom isn't."

"Suit yourself." He plucked one from the box and put it between his teeth, then fished out a lighter, cupping his hand around the flame until the cigarette lit. He took a long drag, then blew a gray cloud. It could've just been his breath in the cold if you were looking from far away.

Before Dan could figure out what else to say, his phone buzzed, and he instinctively pulled it out of his pocket to look at the screen.

A single text from Pj. It simply read: what the hell dan?

"Is that your boyfriend?"

"He's not--" Dan started, then stopped himself. Phil was his boyfriend. He had to get used to that.

"He's my best friend, I've heard all about you."

"All good things I hope."

"Sure." Dan studied his lazed glare for a moment, but his face gave up nothing and his thoughts weren't offering anything either. "So," Chris said, "who was it?"

"It was Pj," Dan said. He wanted to press, to see what Phil had been saying about him, about them, but he owed it to Pj to at least try to salvage the plan.

Chris took another drag and blew a cloud. "Pj." He repeated, a trace of smoke on his lips with the name. It wasn't a question, but a statement.

And his head was completely silent as he said it.

"Yep," Dan said awkwardly, kicking a pebble that had landed on the sidewalk. "Pj."

"Is he..." Chris said, trailing off, waving his cigarette in a vague gesture.

"Is he what?" Dan asked too quickly, the same question repeating in Pj's voice in his mind.

"Does he like guys?" Chis said, clearly exasperated, the skin between his brows crinkling as he stared Dan down. He cracked his knuckles, but it wasn't a threatening gesture. He didn't even seem to realize he was doing it.

Chris was nervous.

"Why are you asking?" Dan asked, trying to look as innocent as possible z

"You know why," Chris spat, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket.

"Do I?"

Chris thought up a few death threats for Dan with shocking detail before giving in. "I haven't been able to him off my mind since that party," he said, almost grimacing. Like any emotion that wasn't rage was too painful for him. "I just... I don't know, there's something about him."

"What about Colin?" Dan asked. He could hear Pj's confused thoughts in his head and winced, but he had to make sure Chris wasn't just going to use him.

"Colin's nothing, I haven't even seen him since that night," Chris said, shaking his head. Dan could tell without even reading Chris' mind that he was telling the truth.

"Well you didn't hear it from me," Dan said, "But I think you should ask Pj to the winter dance."

"Really?" Chris asked, his eyes lighting up. His features turned back to neutral in an instant, but the spark was still there.

"Really."

They stood in silence for a moment, the wind tugging dead leaves across the grass and chilling them. Chris blew smoke and Dan blew hot air into his shaking hands.

Chris was the first one to say something. "I really am sorry." He didn't look at Dan, just spoke into the air.

"Tell you what," said Dan. "Treat Pj well, and I'll think about it."

"Sounds like a deal." Chris pushed himself from the wall, and took a few steps before turning around and waving. "I'll see you around," he said, then made his way across the street and disappeared between two houses where he was swallowed up by the neighborhood.

Dan peered into the distance, trying to process what had just happened and trying to make sure that Chris was really gone. He was snapped out of his gaze when Pj's car rolled around to the front of the street.

He hopped in the passenger seat, the stale heat a relief after standing in the cold.

"He likes you, congrats!" Dan faking the widest grin he could as he glanced over at his friend. He couldn't see Pj's face, as he still had the hood up from their little heist, but as he stepped on the gas and lurched the car forward Dan could tell he wasn't happy.

"What the hell was the virgin thing?" Was the first thing Pj demanded.

Dan sighed and pressed still shaking hands to the air vents. "Well, when I was at his house--"

"When were you at his house?" Pj demanded, looking at Dan for a second before turning his gaze back to the road. In that split second of eye contact Dan knew he was screwed.

"Phil invited me, they're friends, and there were some other people. Do you know Louise? She was there. Anyway, we were playing truth or dare,"

Pj scowled and as he grabbed the stick shift and put it into another gear. The engine stalled for a moment before whirring back to life.

"And then I asked a dumb question about his mom, and he got mad and asked me if I was a virgin the next round." Out the windshield Dan realized they were driving down an unfamiliar road. He didn't even notice they'd gotten out of the school lot. "Hey, where are we going anyway?"

"And who the hell is Colin?" Pj asked instead.

Dan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve some of the headache pounding his skull. "Chris' date that night, but you heard him, he likes you."

"Yeah, sure, until he moves onto the next guy."

"Pj, you heard him," Dan pleaded. He wanted Pj to be happy, and that stupid game of truth or dare was going to ruin it all. "You should've seen the look on his face when I told him to ask you out."

"Yeah, whatever," Pj scowled. Without warning he shifted into the left lane and flipped a U turn at the next intersection.

"Pj, where are we going?"

"Home, now. I've heard all I've needed to hear." He paused for a moment, looking over at Dan angrier than Dan had ever seen him before.

"Is there anything else about him you know?" He continued after a moment. "Since you've apparently spent so much time with him."

"His mom is the assistant principle," Dan offered.

"Splendid," Pj huffed. They passed the school again, so they would be at either of their houses within ten minutes.

Dan needed to fix this, but he didn't understand why Pj was so angry. He tried his best to listen to Pj's thoughts, justifying it by saying it was for the greater good of their friendship, but he couldn't hear anything. Nothing coherent, anyway. Bits of words would slip in, but some humming sound would drown them out as soon as they surgace.

"You're blocking me out," said Dan as he realized what was happening.

"I don't know what you mean." Pj shrugged then turned onto the street Dan's building was on.

"I mean you're keeping me from hearing your thoughts." Anger surged in him to match Pj's. It wasn't fair that he was cursed with this, but the one time he wanted to use it he couldn't. He just wanted to hear one thing: whether or not their friendship would recover from whatever was happening.

"Excuse me for not wanting you in my head all the time," Pj snapped. They screeched to a halt in Dan's parking lot, the rotting building looming ahead of them. Time was up.

"Pj, talk to me," Dan pleaded. He tried to touch Pj's shoulder, but he jerked away.

"Just go," he demanded, smashing the button to unlock the doors with so much force the car shook.

"Why are you so upset with me? He likes you. He's my boyfriend's best friend, we can have a double wedding at some castle in Ireland or something. What more do you want?"

"You've known I liked him for months, why didn't you say anything about him treating you like that in middle school?"

Dan blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I say it does," said Pj. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to ruin him for you, you really liked him. And I don't care anymore, I really think he's changed." Dan said, searching Pj's expression for anything.

"Whatever," Pj mumbled. The humming in his head was suddenly louder, which hurt Dan more than it angered him.

"Is there anything else you've forgotten to tell me?" Pj asked, crossing his arms and slouching back in his seat. "Since you've decided to start keeping secrets from your only friend for two years."

Dan hesitated, and Pj groaned. "What is it now?"

"This sounds mad," Dan said tapping his foot on the floorboard. He hadn't planned to tell Pj today, but he was already never going to talk to him again. Might as well get it over with now.

"More mad than you being able to read minds?"

"Possibly."

Pj's brow raised, and he waited for Dan to speak.

"You know how I can't control whether or not I hear someone's thoughts?"

"So I've heard."

"When Phil and I touch, like if our skin makes any contact at all, it stops. I become normal, and can't read minds anymore"

"Oh my god!" Pj exclaimed. "Of course you have super powers and a fucking soul mate."

"He's not my soul mate," said Dan. He hadn't even considered the thought before, but it was ridiculous. Soul mates weren't real.

Then again, neither were mind readers.

"Anything else? Shape shifting? Long lost twin?"

Dan glanced out the window, and saw his Dad's car wasn't there. He used to work from home on Wednesdays, and Dan couldn't remember when that had ended. Maybe he should talk to Pj about his parents, he seemed to be obsessed with honesty, but he couldn't. He didn't want Pj to be mad at him, but Dan didn't want Pj to feel sorry for him either.

"Well?"

"What else could I have to hide?" Pj seemed to accept that, because he finally shifted the car into park. "Do you want to come in? We could play video games or something," Dan tried.

"I need some time to process all of this," said Pj.

Dan wanted to protest, but he was sure it was useless. "I'll see you at school," he said, opening the car door and stepping out into the cold.

"Sure."

With that, Dan shut the door and made his way home.

Thursday and Friday Pj was no where to be found. He claimed he had an art project to finish up over text, but Dan was in the same art class and knew that they'd just turned in a project and just had to fill pages in their sketchbook for the rest of the week.

He was mad about it until Phil saw him sitting alone in the lunchroom that Thursday and took the seat beside him. They laughed all through the hour, holding hands under the table as they talked. Dan couldn't tell if anyone was watching him, but he was so happy that he didn't even care.

It was Friday at lunch when Phil decided they needed to go on a proper date, which led to Dan scrambling about his room trying to make himself look okay on Sunday afternoon. The Museum of Natural History wouldn't have been his first choice for a first official date, but Phil was pretty, which would make staring at dinosaur fossils for a few hours tolerable.

He ran to the bathroom mirror, and ran a hand threw his head of curls. They were almost dry from the shower, so he grabbed his straightening iron out of the drawer and plugged it into the wall. He made his way to his closet and opened the door to a sea of black hoodies and equally black t-shirts.

What were you even supposed to wear to a museum? His normal attire wouldn't do, but the only nice thing he had was the suit he wore to funerals. He pushed the shirts one by one to the other end of the wooden pole the hangers hung from until he reached a plain white t-shirt.

He snatched it, figuring it was better that the You Me at Six shirt behind it, and went to rummage through his dresser for his best pair of black jeans.

He threw the clothes on and ran back to his bathroom to grab the flat iron. He froze when the plastic was cold to the touch.

"Shit," he mumbled, turning it over. The little red light was off. He yanked the chord from the wall and jammed it back into the socket, and the light flickered before dying out again.

"Mom!" He dropped the faulty flat iron and it clacked against the floor as he raced out to the living room, slamming the door behind him.

"Can you quiet down? We have neighbors," she said, an odd accent lacing her words that always showed up when she was tired or angry. The lazy drawl to her voice told him it was the former.

He couldn't remember where the accent was from, but she didn't talk much about her life before him.

She was sprawled on the couch, an old patchwork quilt draping her in an ugly mix of every color imaginable, only her glasses and mass of curls peaking out from the top. The light from the TV reflected in her lenses, some old black and white film with a woman driving threw the rain mirrored over each of his mom's droopy eyes.

"Sorry," he said, panting, his skin buzzing with anxiety. "Do you have a flat iron?"

"I never straighten my hair." She turned her head to face him but kept her eyes set on the screen.

"Mine isn't working and I'm going out really soon and I need one do you have one?" He said, the words coming out a jumbled mess as he messed with his curls self-consciously.

She sat up, her full attention locked on him suddenly. Something in Dan died as a wicked smile bloomed on her face. "You're finally wearing your natural hair outside the house," she sang.

Before he could respond, she was on her feet and pulling her into her bathroom. "I'll put some product in it so it looks better," she said, more animated than Dan had seen her in days.

He pulled his arm from her grip reflexively. "You aren't doing anything to my hair," he said, but he knew it was useless. There wasn't any way she was giving up on it.

"You can't straighten it, you might as well make it look okay."

"Ouch," said Dan, but followed her through her room and to the bathroom.

He didn't realize how long it had been in there, but he hadn't had a reason to go. There was a cramped double vanity along one wall. His mom's side of the sink had dozens of bottles piled around it, face washes and creams and hair products that covered every inch of the counter top and spilled onto his dad's side.

His dad's side had a single cup with a toothbrush in it, not even a tube of toothpaste to match it.

She grabbed his shoulders to position him in front of her mirror and told him to hold still as she picked up a bright yellow bottle. She squeezed a dollop of who knows what into her hand and worked into Dan's hair.

"Crouch down, you're too tall."

He inwardly groaned but complied, and cringed as the cool product touched his scalp.

"Where are you going out all dressed up, anyway?" She reached for a brush as she spoke, and tugged it through his hair so hard he thought she might rip all his hair out.

"Am I too dressed up?" He blurted, then cursed himself. The word 'date' floated through his his head in her voice a few times, and he cursed himself.

"No, you look nice, I've just never seen you wear anything that isn't all black before." Her eyebrows were raised in her reflection, asking questions Dan wasn't ready to answer.

"Oh," was all he said.

"So where are you going?"

"To a museum, it's for extra credit at school."

"Art museum?"

"Natural history," he said, tapping his fingers against the rim of the sink, staring down at the white porcelain.

"With who?" She pressed.

"Phil," he said, an equal mix of guilt and anger thrumming through him as her expression shifted.

"The drunk one?"

"The drunk one," he confirmed, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"I hate to be this kind of mom," she said, grabbing an aluminum can and shaking it, "but I really don't think he's a good influence." She took the cap of and sprayed his hair, leaving his forehead sticky with the hair spray.

"What happened to not wanting a nerd for a kid? Didn't you want me to get out of my shell and fight the system or whatever a few weeks ago?"

"This isn't what I meant," she said. She slammed the can of hairspray onto the counter and spun around to go into her room, kicking the door on her way out. It got stuck on the carpet from the bedroom before it could slam.

"What do you mean this?" Dan demanded, wishing he could just hold his tongue. He and his mom hadn't fought in so long he forgot the sick feeling that coated his throat and pitted in his stomach when he did.

"Hanging out with alcoholics! What happened to Pj?" She yelled over rustling coming from the other room.

"We got in a fight, and Pj drinks too, Mom."

"Well... I don't know, I just have a bad feeling about him." She came back into the bathroom, holding up a black leather jacket that reflected some of the harsh yellow light overhead. "Try this on, it will look good over the shirt."

"This is a girl's jacket," said Dan, taking it from her and sliding it on. The leather was cool on his skin, pricking gooseflesh from his arms.

"And?" She asked, hands on her hips. "Look," she demanded, gesturing with a blue hair brush she was still holding.

He turned to look in the mirror. He looked... different. His hair was messy, but it wasn't bad, and the white didn't wash him out like he feared it might. He looked decent.

"It looks good right," she said, grinning as she slid behind him too look at his reflection.

"I guess," he said. She opened her mouth to speak but Dan's phone buzzed on the counter and he reached for it.

"Phil's here," he said, and he turned to leave before he could see whatever expression would be on her face.

"I want you home right after," she said.

Dan whirled, jaw dropped. "That's not fair."

"I'm your mom," she responded, arms crossed over her chest.

"I know you're trying to protect me, but you don't need to. You saw me, I wasn't drunk, I didn't even drink anything! And," he added, cutting her off, "he's really nice to me. That's all I really care about."

She sighed, blowing a curl off her forehead. "Alright," she conceded, and ushered him to the door. "Just come home this time, you have school tomorrow."

He loved her. She fought him on little things, but when it was important she understood him. "I will," he promised, and slipped out the door to head down to the parking lot where Phil's car was waiting.

Dan pushed the front door opened only to immediately run into his date, hitting his forehead right against Phil's.

"Shit," said Dan, rubbing his head.

"Sorry, I didn't know if I should go up to your apartment or wait down here," said Phil. "Are you okay?" He reached forward and brushed Dan's curls off of his forehead to check for damage.

"I'm fine," said Dan, but he could feel the heat rising to his face as Phil's fingers traced his brow and the sleeve of a gray knit sweater brushed his skin. "Kiss it better?"

Phil playfully gave Dan's forehead a smooch then ruffled his hair. "Come on, let's go see some dinosaurs."

Dan unabashedly stared at Phil the entire car ride, not even blinking as he was thrown into the dashboard at every stop sign. Some vaguely familiar pop punk song hummed from the stereo, but Dan was listening to Phil's inner voice singing the song at the top of his mental lungs.

"What are you looking at?" Phil asked, reaching over for Dan's hand and cutting off the serenade.

"You," said Dan, feeling the most ridiculous lovesick smile bloom on his face.

Phil returned it with one even worse than his own. Dan could only imagine what kind of terrible and mushy bullshit Phil was thinking right then. He both wished he could hear it and was grateful he couldn't.

They pulled up to the museum and went inside to buy their tickets. A middle aged woman with fading blonde hair sticking out out of a green hat that said "You're Roarsome" took Phil's credit card while Dan awkwardly watched. He didn't even think to bring money for his ticket.

"Here you go," she said in a crackly smoker's voice. She winked as she slid the tickets across the counter. 'What a lovely couple,' came the same voice in Dan's head, lighting his anxiety.

Were they that obvious? He didn't want it to not look like a couple, but he didn't want to look like a couple either.

"Next," she croaked, and Phil grabbed Dan's wrist to pull him into the building.

Marble white pillars with intricate carvings held up a high ceiling with golden detailing all across it. In the center of the ceiling a glass skylight that illuminated the whole room, as vast as it was. Right in front of them there was a huge dinosaur fossil reconstructed in front of them, one of those long-necks that Dan didn't know the scientific name of, people milling about it to look at it from every angle and read all the informational plaques. The discolored bones towered so high above them that Dan had to squint against the skylight to see its head.

"So this is what you meant by Hobbit hair," said Phil, neck craned to stare up at the fossil.

Dan laughed in spite of himself. "You're staring at a real life dinosaur and you're worried about my hair." He ran a hand through the stiff curls self-consciously.

"It looks pretty dead to me," said Phil, grinning. "And your hair is prettier than a dead dinosaur."

"Thanks I think."

"Come on," said Phil, dragging Dan through the crowd to a doorway on the far side of the room. From what he could see the walls were black and textured, something fuzzy and soft like felt, and little lights drew a path into the room like that in a cinema.

"What's this?" Dan said as they neared the opening.

"You'll see," said Phil, and pulled him into the room.

Glass boxes on wooden stands lined a path like a maze in the dark room. Dan walked up to the first one to see what looked like some kind of beetle trapped in an orb of amber, shining from the yellow glow of lights built into the case.

"This is like animal crossing," was all Dan could think to say.

"This one's a dogbane beetle," said Phil, peering into the glass. "Other wise known as the chrysochus auratus, member of the Eumoplinae family and found in eastern North America." 

Dan looked up, studying Phil's pale features in the yellow light. "How did you know that?"

The serious expression on Phil's face cracked. "I read the plaque, silly," he said, nudging Dan with his shoulder. "This was my favorite room when I was a kid." He walked over to another case and reached out like he meant to touch it, but changed his mind. The word 'fingerprints' floated in Dan's head.

"You came here when you were ginger?" Asked Dan, looking over Phil's shoulder at a flower that had been pressed into stone.

"Hush," Phil laughed. "Yeah. I wanted to be a scientist when I was little. I would collect bugs in jars and 'study them,' mix random baking ingredients to try to make things explode."

"Maybe you should've been a baker."

"Oh, no, I can't cook at all."

"I can order pizza," said Dan.

"Really?" Said Phil, feigning awe.

"Actually, phone calls are overwhelming, never mind."

"You're such a goof," Phil laughed, pressing a kiss on Dan's cheek.

Dan shrugged away from the touch instinctively, cursing himself as he did it. He glanced about the room and saw a few silhouettes, but all were focused on everyone else.

'Shit, I overstepped,' Phil thought, and a new wave of panic went through Dan. He wanted to take Phil's hand, but he couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.

"Sorry, I just," Dan stuttered, but he didn't know what to say.

"No, I get it," said Phil, offering a smile Dan was sure wasn't genuine. "There used to be an octopus thing over here, come look." Phil turned and lead Dan through the maze of glasses into a corner full of fossilized sea life.

Dan stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed, staring at Phil's bright sneakers glowing in the floor lights. Phil's thoughts listed more private ideas for their next date. The dark corner of a movie theater, a picnic in the woods, another round of stargazing.

"I thought you moved here freshman year," Dan blurted to get Phil's mind on anything else.

"I lived here, I just went to a private school," he said, studying a chart on the wall that listed different types of coral.

"Really?" Phil in a school uniform was a strange mental image. It was hard to imagine him, with his baggie flannels and sweaters and mussed hair, wearing anything remotely proper.

Dan moved to look at the poster but the words were barely legible in the dim light.

"Yeah, it was terrible."

"Why'd you go public?"

"My mom was really catholic," he started, still studying the chart. "So she had Sam and me in Catholic school. When she left, my dad let us choose if we still wanted to go there or go to public school. Sam was a senior so he stayed, but I was going into high school so I switched." He finished with a shrug and turned to face Dan, his mind strangely silent.

"Is it better now?" He asked.

"Loads. Let's go to geology," said Phil, brushing past Dan and heading into the next room.

The bright red walls were the most exciting part of the room. Various rocks were put on pedestals around the room with plaques that gave their names and warned patrons not to touch them.

"Ooh, dolostone, fascinating," said Dan, pointing to a heap of gray sitting on a wooden stand with its name carved in bronze beneath it. 

"You aren't impressed?"

"No, of course I am," said Dan. "Look, Calcite."

Phil laughed, the tip of his tongue sticking out form his teeth in a way Dan had never noticed before. "Fine, you choose where we go for our next date." 

A kind of heat rose in his chest at the idea of another date. That's what couples did, he knew that, but it still felt so foreign doing the whole relationship thing. He'd always figured he'd ride out high school in the closet and catch up on his childhood once he ran away to college, but he couldn't imagine waiting another two years to find Phil.

It was like waiting his whole life to leave the city and see the stars when Phil had just dragged him out into the woods and tore away the veil of light pollution like it was nothing. It was like waiting his whole life for a moment of silence just for Phil to touch him and make the whole world in his head disappear.

Phil did all of that, and what did Dan do? He shoved him away when he tried to kiss his cheek. Caused rifts between him and his brother. Stirred up old drama between him and Chris knowing how much Phil cared about him.

Whatever Phil saw in him surely wasn't there.

"What are you thinking about?" Asked Phil, head tilted in question.

"Nothing," he said too quickly, shaking his head to clear the daze. His phone rang in his pocket, saving him from trying to explain it all. How would he have explained how much better Phil deserved anyway.

"Sorry," he said, pulling the phone from his pocket just in case it was an emergency. He blinked at the screen, the word 'Dad' on the caller id throwing him for a second. He couldn't remember the last time his dad had called him. His dad had missed birthdays and holidays galore and didn't even bother to phone him then.

He reluctantly hit answer and pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?" 

"Is everything okay?" Phil whispered in the other ear. His hand slid into Dan's, and immediately the feeling of hundreds of eyes on them sent anxiety tingling down his spine.

He preseds the receiver to his chest and squeezed Phil's hand, determined not to let go. "I think so."

"Dad?" he repeated louder into the phone.

"Hey, Dan." His dad's voice was garbled through the phone, like wind was blowing against the microphone.

"Is everything okay?" 

"Yes, everything's fine." Dan could hear the forced smile on his face through the crackling audio.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing."

Dan internally groaned, gripping the phone tightly. He seriously considered just hanging up for a moment, but he'd never see his phone again if he reacted to brashly. Their relationship was on eggshells, but Dan was the one who'd face the consequences of any of them cracked.

Phil rubbed his thumb down the side of Dan's wrist, and the simple motion was the only thing holding him in the moment. It would be so easy to slip into the years of resentment building up, but Phil was acting as a dam. Or a motivation.

As much as Dan knew Phil deserved better than him, he also knew that being away from Phil for more than a few days was something he wouldn't be able to take. He couldn't let himself get grounded over nothing.

"Why are you calling?" He asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Are you going to be home later?"

Dan squinted, thinking. It could be a trick question, but Dan didn't know what he was being tricked into. "Yeah, I should be, why?"

"Just curious." The lilt of his voice made it sound like he was going to continue, but the line remained silent apart from the staticky background noise. "So how was school?"

Dan sighed. "It was good, dad," he said, forcing cheer into his delivery to really sell it.

"Good." Garbled static hummed for a few moments. "I'll see you at home, then." He hung up before Dan could even give a half-hearted goodbye or see you later.

"What was that about?" Phil asked, clearly concerned.

"I don't know." He truly didn't know. With everything going on recently, he guessed unexpected behavior was to be expected, but he had a weird feeling about the phone call. It was just so out of place.

He groaned as he realized what he had to do. "I hate to do this, but he's acting really weird. I think I should go home to make sure everything's okay."

Phil looked disappointed, but in an instant the expression melted into a grin. "Can we go to one last exhibit?"

"Sure," he said. He shoved all the worry as far down as it would go as he let Phil drag him by the hand through the maze of the museum, passing rooms dedicated to cavemen, different biomes, insect species. They passed a velvet curtain that rested halfway open in front of a small theater, revealing a screen that projected the images of galaxies and nebulas that cast an aura of blue and white light from the room. He was sad as they passed it, but the feeling was replaced by relief as they passed a room full of taxidermized animals and they didn't go in.

Maybe they could come back for the space exhibit another day.

They were back at the front of the museum, with the dinosaur fossil soaring up to the skylights above them. Dan was confused until Phil tugged him through a door into a gift shop, with walls of brightly colored t-shirts with the museum's logo, horrible dinosaur puns. A row of them were bright red and shouted 'We Will Rock You!' in blocky font with a rock printed below it. The chemical smell of formaldehyde emanating off the clothes almost made his eyes water. 

Phil released his hand and jogged over to a stand in the center of the store with snow globes. He picked one up with the dinosaur from the entrance and shook it, looking almost hypnotized with the white glitter spinning around in the glass.

"My favorite part of history," said Dan, laughing. "Capitalism."

"Don't be a downer, shake the snow globe," said Phil, offering it to Dan expectantly.

"No."

"Your loss," he said, setting it back on the shelf with the others. "Let's look at the pins."

Dan followed Phil to the back of the store, passing racks full of the rock t-shirt design recycled in mug form, coffee cups of fossilized dinosaurs where their bony tails make the handles. He picked one up and studied it, running his finger over the smooth clay vertebrae. Phil called his name, and he set it down to follow the voice.

"Look at this one," said Phil, holding up a white button pin with a dinosaur drawn in black, it's little arms stretched to the sky. Beneath it the words "Nervous Rex" were written in Comic Sans.

"Oh god, it's hideous," said Dan, smiling in spite of himself.

"I'm getting it," he said, clutching the pin to his chest defiantly as he pushed past Dan to get to the cash register. Dan watched him walk over to the cash register, his spine curved so much in his gray sweater that he looked shorter than he really was. His smile glowed as he talked to the cashier, a guy around their age who didn't share any of the enthusiasm Phil had.

He was handed a small bag to put the pin in, then turned and waved for Dan to follow him. God, that smile was infectious.

They walked out to the car, the cool wind a shock after the heat of the building, and climbed into the car, which was just as cold as the outside. The metal of the seatbelt stung his fingers as he clipped it into place. 

The engine whirred to life and with it came more pop punk music Dan didn't recognize, and Phil pulled out of the parking lot. The car hummed and bounced over potholes, and Dan listened to Phil singing off key in his head. Phil turned onto a backroad Dan didn't remember taking to get there, a single carriageway where the trees bent over the road like a green canopy, so low it almost brushed the roof of the car.

All too soon Dan's crumbling building was in front of them, his dad's parking spot as vacant as it always was.

"I had a really fun time," said Dan, fiddling with the cuff of the leather jacket he wore.

"Especially the dolostone?" Asked Phil, a smile quirking on his lips.

"Especially the dolostone." He leaned across the car, his hand naturally falling to the back of Phil's neck, and kissed him. Phil's arm wrapped around his middle, pulling him in. The edge of the center console dug into his hip rather uncomfortably, but the pain was bare able.

Phil was the one to pull away. "You should probably go check on your family, I've kept you for long enough."

"Right," said Dan, opening his car door against the wind. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah," said Phil, that smile back on his face. The kind that made Dan forget about anything else but him.

"Yeah," Dan parroted, still staring at Phil. Finally he got a grip and shut the car door, and went up to his room. His mom was still on the couch watching black and white movies, and his dad was nowhere to be found. Nothing was out of place.

It wasn't until much later when he was changing into pajamas that he realized Phil had somehow managed to sneak the 'Nervous Rex' pin onto his shirt. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw it, then unpinned from the shirt. He had no clue how Phil had snuck it there without him noticing.

He attached it to the front of his backpack, then whirled around as his phone buzzed on the dresser. A notification at the top at the screen showed a text from Phil. 

Phil: can't sleep, do you wanna face time?

Dan texted back a yes, and smiled as Phil's groggy hello came through the phone.


	9. Chapter 9

Dan woke up to a dull ache in his shoulder and a heavy sleepiness he couldn't shake. It was dark when he forced his eyes open and rolled over, running his hand under the sheet to look for his cell phone. He didn't remember hanging up on Phil the last night. He didn't remember what they talked about either, he was too tired then and he was too tired now. His mind was still foggy with the lull of sleep and the hum of sleeping thoughts that floated through his head every night.

His fingers brushed the cool plastic and he brought the phone to his face. He winced and squinted against the light, making out the time as 3:23 am.

He let the phone fall from his grasp and pulled his blankets up over his head.

The front door slammed and Dan jumped and sat up. Footsteps thudded and the sound of his dad's voice floated into his head. 'Don't wake them up,' it chided. 'We need to make this quick.'

Dan shook his head as he laid back down. This wasn't the first time his dad had woken him up sneaking in the middle of the night. He'd never been quite sure where his dad spent all his time. It used to be the bars, but his thoughts had been too clear recently for him to be drunk. Dan couldn't imagine he was cheating, he still made it home most nights and hardly ever went on business trips anymore.

That thought brought back an image he hadn't thought about in a while. He must've been eight, and it was their first Christmas in the apartment, so they didn't even have a tree. Just a garland and a string of lights over the fireplace, the stockings sitting on the kitchen table because there wasn't a mantle to hang them from.

Dan, still only up to his mom's waist and his hair still more blonde than brunette, sat by the phone in the kitchen all day. His dad was out of town and he'd been striking all day, refusing to open his presents until his dad was on the phone to hear him open them.  
Dan didn't open his presents until after New Years' that year.

He shook his head to clear it away and pulled his knees into his chest, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. Maybe if his dad was going on business trips they'd be able to afford turning the heat up a little bit.

Another door slammed, but Dan barely registered it as he drifted off to sleep.

It felt like he'd just closed his eyes when he was being shaken awake, the blinds open and letting in slats of sunlight he squinted against.

"Dan," his mom whispered harshly.

He groaned and rolled over to bury his face in his elbow. "What time is it?" He groaned.

"It's eight and your dad hasn't been home all night." Her pacing footsteps thumped on the ratty carpet floor.

The anxiety in his mom's voice woke him up. He sat up to watch her pace, alarmed by how small she looked. Her shoulders were hunched in an old bathrobe that might've been pink once, her hair matted to her head from restless sleep.

"I thought I heard him moving around last night," he said, moving to his feet.

"Well," she sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. 'Maybe he snapped,' she thought, the voice in her head more resigned than anything else. As if she'd been expecting him to not come home one day, it was only a question of when and not if. 'Maybe this is it.'  
Dan wasn't ready to think about what "it" was. The idea of his dad leaving wasn't a new one, he'd even wished it a couple of times. But he'd never seriously considered it.

"Did you call him?" He said over his shoulder, heading into the living room. It looked the same as it had the night before except the blankets from the couch had migrated to the bedrooms during the night. The kitchen phone was missing from where it usually sat.

"Yeah, he didn't pick up," she groaned, following him into the kitchen. "I hate when he does this." She came into the kitchen and flung open some cabinets, letting them fly into the neighboring walls carelessly.

"What are you making?" He asked. He sat on the couch and shoved his arm between the cushions to find the TV remote, hoping it would drown out some of the anxious buzzing happening in his mom's head. Every possible explanation, from a flat tire to running away with a waitress from the local casino went through her mind, and Dan didn't know how much of it he could take. She got like this every time he was late for something.

She slammed a pot onto the counter so loudly Dan flinched. "We haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, so we have oatmeal or leftovers from dinner."

"I love oatmeal," said Dan, forcing a smile in her direction. He hated oatmeal.

The stove clicked as it ignited, water rushed, and the clang of metal on metal nearly gave Dan a heart attack as his mom set the pit on the stove. "Let me know when it's boiling," she said, then disappeared into her bedroom.

Where the hell was that remote? Dan pulled his arm from the bowels of the couch, cringing at the feeling of crumbs scratching at his skin, then pulled the whole cushion away to reveal what was underneath.  
The remote was there, but Dan didn't reach for it. Instead, he plucked the other small plastic box off the base of the couch. His dad's cellphone.

He clicked the buttons, but nothing happened. He had no way of knowing whether it was dead or broken.

'Oh, my god,' came his mom's voice through his head, more angry than surprised. He set the phone down on the coffee table and turned to watch the door to her room. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

She emerged, having swapped her bathrobe for a t-shirt and jeans. Whatever she saw in there was hidden behind her steeled expression. She didn't even look at Dan as she marched back into the kitchen and methodically got to work making breakfast.  
It was clear she wasn't going to tell him anything until he asked. "Mom?"

"Yes," she said, not looking up as she stirred a spatula in the pot.  
"He left his phone," he said.

She dropped the spatula, the wooden handle clanging against the side of the pot. "His clothes are gone," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Dan's jaw fell slack. He knew what it meant, but the true meaning wasn't sinking in. He hadn't been close for months, years even, but the idea of him being gone? 

"I'm going out, " she said suddenly. "You can finish breakfast."  
He couldn't even speak as she slipped her shoes on and slipped out the door.

He put in his headphones to drown out the world as he scooped the soupy oatmeal into the garbage disposal. He couldn't even begin to process what would happen next.

It only took a week of his dad's absence for the electricity to go out. Dan was in his room, tapping his pencil on the desk as he stared at a half-finished drawing when the lights went out, and with it the gentle hum of the heater.

Dan looked up, waiting for the lights to flicker back on like they always did. He sat in the dark for a few moments before he realized this wasn't like always. 

He heard his mom's mental cursing before he heard her footsteps thundering down the hall. "Dan?" She called, rapping her knuckles on the door. 

"Come in. Is there a storm?"

"No," his mom huffed. She shuffled to the window and open the blinds, letting the silvery after sunset light filter into the room. It shone on the wet ringlets of her hair and illuminated where the water had stained the shoulders of her sweater.

"I just got off the phone with the electric company." She sat down on the edge of his bed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'That bastard took the electricity with him,' she scowled in her head. 

"Oh," Dan said. He pulled the sleeves of his hands, staring down at them. He didn't know what to say, what to do next. He could only fiddle with the cuffs of his hoodie as he waited for his mom to say something else.

"Apparently Robert hasn't paid the bill in four months." 

"Oh," he said again. Her thoughts were too angry, too pointed at cussing out his father to help him. He didn't have any money, any advice to make the situation any better. He had superpowers, but they were useless to him now.

"Pack up, you're going to Pj's." 

He bit the inside of his cheek, focusing on the pain to distract from the pit in his stomach. Pj still hadn't spoken to him, and it had been almost two weeks. The question of whether or not Pj would ever come back had sparked up a few times, but he always snuffed it before it could take hold and burn everything down. He couldn't consider the idea that two of the most important people in his life were gone, just like that.

"Come on," she said, picking up a blanket off the floor and tossing it to him. It landed at his feet. He'd made no move to catch it. 

"Why don't we just make a blanket fort in the living room like we used to?" He asked, picking up the blanket and haphazardly folding it in his lap.

"That was with the heater, Dan. We're gonna freeze or get sick if we stay with no heat all night, and lord knows I can't take the medical bills right now."

He stared down at the blanket. It had little Star Wars iconography scattered across it. Stormtrooper helmets, death stars, Yoda heads. The corners didn't line up the way he folded it, so he shook it out and tried again. 

"I'll be fine," he insisted, not looking up as he ran his hand over the soft material, flattening it. Those damn corners still weren't aligned.  
"Dan, I'm not taking suggestions on this one," his mom said, standing up to pace about the small room. "Neither of us are staying here."

"Well, where are you going?" He snapped. He regretted the way he said it as soon as it was out of his mouth.

She sighed. She settled by the window and fiddled with the string of the blinds. He thought she wouldn't tell him, just spend the rest of the night staring out the window at the parking lot, but finally she turned to him. "I'm driving up to my mom's place."

Dan's mouth fell open. Not once had his mom ever mentioned any extended family. And they had never reached out to them, either. He'd heard passing thoughts now and again, but as soon as her parents crossed her mind she pushed them out.

"How far away are they?"

"An hour."

He shook his head. Everything was changing so fast. One night he had a dad, then he didn't. One day he didn't have a grandma, now he did. His face felt too hot, his throat too tight. "We've had family an hour away from us my entire life and I've never met them?"

"I know you're angry, and I know you have a lot of questions," she said, coming over to him. She knelt in front of him and rested a cool hand on his cheek. "But I can't answer them right now. Go to Pj's, I'll be back tomorrow evening and hopefully, the lights will be on. Can you do that for me, Bear?"

He swallowed and nodded. He'd spent 17 years knowing nothing about his grandparents, another day wouldn't hurt him. "Yeah, I'll call him."

"Thank you." She patted his face and stood up to leave, but stopped short and turned around. "And one more thing?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"I love you." 'We'll get through this.'

He sighed, the anger melting away. He trusted her, he always had. "I love you, too."

When she was gone, he pulled out his phone and tapped in a number. The ring of the call blared out from the speaker, and he scrambled to turn the volume down as he pressed it to his ear. 

"Hey," said Phil, the smile evident in his voice. "It's been a few days, I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me."

"Never," Dan answered. He sucked in a breath and gathered up his courage. He'd never been the best at asking for favors, and he didn't have a backup plan if this fell through. "I know it's short notice, but the power went out at my house and I need a place to stay for the night. Would it be alright if--"

"I'll be there in 10 minutes," Phil interrupted. 

"Really? Thank you so much, you're a saint."

"Yeah, I obviously don't have any ulterior motives."

"Thanks," said Dan. "Wait! One more thing. My mom thinks I'm going to Pj's, but we're fighting so I called you instead. So she can't see you."

"I'll wait for you at the back of the building."

"Thank you so much."

"Anytime." The call ended with a click, and Dan launched into motion.  
Not long after Dan had thrown a toothbrush, his least dorky pajamas, his laptop, and a flat iron into a bag and was sitting in the living room, checking his phone every other minute for a text. The cold had already begun to creep in through the walls, but he was too preoccupied to care. It was so much work, keeping his thoughts in line. They kept wandering to the edges, threatening to drag him into a hundred different panicked scenarios. What might've happened if he'd woken up the night his dad left. How his grandparents will react to him, a scrawny anxious thing that likes to draw and kiss boys. His mom being crushed under the weight of the situation, turning to drugs or drinking or just leaving him too.

Dan's phone buzzed and he was on his feet in an instant. "Bye, mom," he called, not bothering to wait for an answer. If he waited in that dark apartment one more second he swore he might suffocate.  
When he'd left through the main entrance and rounded the corner, Phil's car was sitting there, the windows growing foggy from the heat inside. Dan stopped and stared for a moment, at the way Phil's raven hair shone in the yellow lights from the ceiling, the dazed look on his face as he stared out the windshield. Dan strained to hear what Phil was daydreaming about.

It was all scattered and coherent. Bits of dialogue in voices that weren't quite Phil's, descriptions of fistfights and escaping from the windows of tall buildings. Strange movie jargon terms Dan didn't understand. 'Fade out, then a bird's eye shot, then cut to a closeup.' He even hummed beneath it all, a dramatic score that Dan couldn't quite put his finger on.

Phil's eyes wandered to Dan, and a grin breaking across his face.  
Dan scrambled to get into the car and hoped it wasn't obvious he'd been staring.

"Thank you so much," said Dan, throwing his arms around Phil's neck. It had been days since they'd been together. He'd missed it. 

"Jesus, your hands are cold," said Phil, wrapping his arms around Dan. "I've missed you too."

Dan pulled away and fumbled for his seat belt as Phil reached over to turn up the heat and aim the plastic vents toward Dan. 

"Is that okay?" He asked, glancing from the air vent to Dan. "It'll be warmer at my house."

"Relax," Dan sighed, laying his head on Phil's shoulder. "The heat's been out for maybe half an hour." 

"Well," said Phil, jostling Dan's head as he turned up the heat a couple more notches.

"You're insufferable," Dan mumbled into the crook of Phil's neck. He spent the whole car ride that way, Phil filling the silence with the plot of the last TV show he watched and Dan focusing on the vibration of his voice.

Up in Phil's room, Dan studied the pictures on the walls, his bag weighing heavy on his shoulder, as Phil frantically shoved clothes under his bed. "I wasn't expecting company," was Phil's reason for the mess on the floor.

"My room doesn't look much better," Dan assured him, looking from picture to picture. He'd already found the ginger photos, he wondered what other embarrassing secrets he could learn about his boyfriend.

Lovingly, of course.

His eyes settle on the picture of Phil, his brother, his mom, and his dad all together. "I forgot," said Dan, anxiety creeping into his voice. "Is it okay for me to be here? With your mom and everything?"

Phil didn't look up as he threw a pair of jeans under the bed, out of sight out of mind. "She left a few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry." Dan drifted to a newspaper article pressed to the wall, between a movie poster he didn't recognize and a photo of Phil, around middle school age. He beamed, showing off his braces to the camera, his black hair shorter than Dan had ever seen it.

"Don't worry about it," Phil said. 'She never stays long anyway,' he thought.

The headline of the article read "Young Screenwriter Wins Local Contest." He skimmed the rest of the article, finding out that Phil, at the age of 12, wrote a screenplay that won a creative fiction contest held by his local library. It was a superhero movie, about a kid who could see the future, and therefore never lost a fight. Until he lost his powers, that is.

"Oh god, what did you find this time," asked Phil, seeming to just appear behind Dan and startling him out of his reading.

"You won a screenplay contest?" Dan asked, turning to look at Phil. His cheeks were flushed red.

"I was a kid, it's nothing."

"I think it's cool."

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Phil asked suddenly, turning to search for the remote to the TV mounted on the wall across from his bed. 

"Okay." Phil clearly didn't want to share about his creative projects, and Dan wasn't going to press. Still, Phil had seen all the paintings he had stacked in his room, which seemed unfair to him. Maybe one day.

Dan's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to look at the screen. It was his mom.

"I'm gonna change real quick," said Dan. "Is there a bathroom?"

"Down the hall."

Dan all but ran down the hall, sliding on the wooden floor as he stopped in front of the door. If she found out about him going to Phil's instead of Pj's he was dead. If she'd stopped by Pj's house for some reason and realized he wasn't there she was probably in the midst of having a heart attack, which would be unfair on top of everything else happening. Maybe she'd forgive him one day.  
He slammed the door and hit the answer in the same moment. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bear," she said, her voice cracking through the phone. "Is everything okay?"

He hesitated for a moment. If he came clean now, maybe she wouldn't be mad. But if she didn't know it would backfire. "Yeah, of course," he decided. "Why?"

"Just making sure." The static on the other end of the line was almost louder than her voice, but he could still make out the words.

"Is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Dan wished his mind-reading worked over the phone. It was times like these how much of a crutch knowing exactly what people were thinking was. He knew his mom wasn't fine, but he didn't know why, so he couldn't do anything.

"Where are you?" He finally asked. 

"In their driveway," she said. "I should go, I love you, Bear."

Dan didn't even get to say it back before she hung up the phone. As far as he knew, it had been years since she'd talked to her parents. It must be hard on her, and Dan didn't make it any easier with that phone call. He really screwed everything up, didn't he? 

He splashed his face with cold water to shake away the phone call. He didn't want Phil to notice how much of his life was falling apart, not when they'd been together for such a short time. If Phil realized how broken everything Dan touched became, he wouldn't stay.  
His dad didn't stay, why should Phil?

He quickly changed and headed back into the room to see the title screen for the movie Twilight illuminating the room, the overhead lights turned off and the blinds shut against the final sliver of sunlight. 

He laughed despite himself. "I thought you were a film snob or something," he said, gesturing to the Tarantino posters all about the room.

"Film snobs have guilty pleasures too," he said, scrunching his nose at Dan. He was lying under the covers of his bed, but Dan could see the top of the Super-Man crest on his t-shirt peeking above the blanket.

Dan studied him for a moment, the way his pale skin caught the green scenery from Forks, Washington. The way his bright blue eyes seemed to light up the dark. Dan decided then that there was absolutely no way he would tell Phil about everything going on. Not about his dad, not about the mind reading, none of it. He couldn't risk it. Any misstep could push Phil away, and he wouldn't let it happen.  
Phil's eyes got wide. "If you don't want to share a bed, I can take the floor, it's no big deal," he said, throwing the covers back and standing up.

"No, no, no, it's okay," Dan said quickly, climbing into the bed. "We shared a bed at my house that one night, remember? It's okay, really." Three seconds and he'd already screwed it up. Now Phil thought wasn't comfortable with him, or that he was prude, or a million other things.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, that night's kind of fuzzy," said Phil, laughing a little. 

Dan forced himself to laugh, too, but it didn't feel right. He couldn't help but wonder if Phil had gotten drunk like that again. If it was a one-time thing, or if he did it all the time.

It wasn't until the Cullens were playing baseball that the worst thought came to his head. If Phil was blacked out that night, did he remember their first kiss? Of course he did, Dan reasoned. They made their relationship official the next day. But what if he didn't really remember it? That was one of the biggest moments of Dan's life, one of the happiest. What if it didn't mean anything to Phil?  
Dan's anxious thoughts were cut off by Phil's own anxious thoughts. They'd been buzzing in the background for the whole movie, but they were suddenly louder. 'I can't just ask if everything's okay,' he thought. 

Dan looked over. There were two little creases right between Phil's eyebrows, and he chewed his lip. 'What if he came out and got thrown out?'

Dan swallowed as he turned his attention back to the screen. "Everything's fine, by the way." It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Phil might think it was weird he responded to a thought, but he couldn't stand the thought of Phil thinking something was wrong for another second. A circuit just got cut in one of our neighbor's units and it messed everything up."

"Oh," said Phil. He gave a weak smile without looking away from the TV. "That's good to hear."

Dan was sure Phil suspected something, but before he could cover his tracks a Muse song started playing from the speakers. 

"I love this song!" Said Phil, launching into his own off-key rendition of the song.

Dan's anxiety melted as Phil sang. Everything was fine, of course it was. He laughed and moved to cover Phil's mouth with his hand, but Phil continued to belt from behind his fingers.

"You'll wake everyone up," Dan whispered loudly, eyeing the door that separated Phil's room from the hallway. 

Phil mumbled something against Dan's hand, and Dan pulled his hand away. "What was that?" 

"I said they're used to it. The day I got an MP3 player they started sleeping with earplugs in," he said, grinning at Dan, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. 

"I'll have to invest in a pair." Dan leaned his head against Phil's shoulder, returning his attention to the movie. He laughed as Phil obnoxiously pretended to yawn, stretching his arm around Dan and pulling him closer. 

The movie passed before his eyes, but he didn't really take it in. He'd never tell, but he secretly watched it in theaters three times when it first came out, so he wasn't missing much. His attention was on the rise and fall of Phil's chest against him instead, the blissful silence filled with his whistling breath. Between the two of them there was so much warmth, his skin was hot beneath the covers where they touched. If this was what love was like, he wasn't going to lose it.

Phil shifted against him, and Dan turned his head to look at him. "What's up?" He asked softly.

"I just," he said, then groaned. His chest shook with the noise. "You don't have to answer, but what's up with you and Pj?"

Dan sighed and let his head fall back on Phil's shoulder, burying his nose into the hollow of his neck. "We got in a fight," he mumbled. 

"About what?"

What a loaded question. Where did he start? Maybe with the mind-reading powers he'd been hiding the entire time they knew each other. Or maybe the fact that Phil was the only one who could take that power away. Pj had called them soulmates, would Phil feel the same way, or would he get scared and run off? 

"A lot of things," Dan decided. "We'll figure it out though, we always do." The words were sour on his tongue. They'd never fought like this before.

"Did you know about him and Chris?" 

Dan tensed. "What about him and Chris?" 

Phil's hand found its way into Dan's hair, mussing the fringe out of his eyes. "I think they're going out." 

"Really?" It didn't even shock him. Pj had his eyes on Chris for the better part of a year, of course a falling out with his best friend wasn't going to stop him. Maybe with Chris, Pj would forget all about Dan.

"I asked Chris to come over the other day and he said he had plans." Phil made circles with his fingers in Dan's hair. "Then I saw him drive by and guess who was in the passenger seat."

"Damn," was all he said. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. He didn't want to spend a whole night with his boyfriend thinking about how he might've lost his closest friend forever.

"Oh hey, that phone call the other day. Was everything okay with your dad?"

Great, another sore topic. Phil really knew how to make a guy feel good. How do you just casually say your dad left you?

Suddenly he's back in his bedroom that night, listening to the shuffling outside his door. The Christmas lights and the phone calls and everything else echoing in his head. He could've gone out and said something to him. He should've realized not everything was right, but he didn't, and now his family was fractured. His mom was alone and it was all his fault.

It was a heavy weight on his shoulders, and he ached to shed it onto Phil. But he couldn't risk losing this, too. His dad and his best friends were gone. Phil was all he had.

And besides, what was one more secret to carry?

"Dan?" Asked Phil, panic creeping into his voice. He sat up, shifting Dan off of him. His eyes were wide, the shadows beneath them lit up by the orange light of the TV screen. The ballet school was burning, but so was something in Phil's eyes. Their fingers were still touching, so there were no thoughts to explain the fear that Phil had.

"Sorry, I zoned out for a second," he said, putting his hand against Phil's cheek. His skin was flushed beneath his palm. "What's wrong?"  
"Was everything okay with your dad?" He repeated.

"Yeah, yeah, it was okay, don't worry about it," said Dan, pushing the hair out of Phil's eyes. He couldn't understand what was scaring him so bad, but he didn't want to pull his hands away. If he pulled away Phil might fade away too, like smoke in the wind.

"You can tell me if it's not," Phil insisted, taking Dan's hand and lacing their fingers. "Really, I'm here for you."

"Phil, nothing's wrong. I promise." He studied Phil, trying to figure out why he was so convinced Dan was lying. He couldn't decide which crutch to lean on, his powers or Phil's touch. 

Phil turned back to the movie, watching as Bella came down the stairs in her purple dress. He looked like he was trying to decide something, but Dan couldn't figure out what it was.  
He finally turned back. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry for prying," Phil said. 

"Don't worry about it." He watched as Phil leaned back against the headboard, his eyes glassy as they fixed on the screen. Dan chewed his lip as he studied Phil's blank expression. They weren't touching, but Phil's thoughts were distant and mumbling. He picked out the phrase 'Why doesn't he trust me?' in a defeated tone before it sank back beneath the ocean of thoughts.

Dan had to fix this somehow. 

Before he could lose his nerve, he swung his leg over Phil's hips to straddle them. Phil's eyes shot to Dan, and the skin of his cheek shifted as if he were biting it. Dan was afraid he'd read the situation wrong, that boldness was a bad idea. His chest squeezed as they both just sat there, staring at each other.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have," Dan mumbled, starting to move away.  
But Phil reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. Dan's eyes fluttered closed just as Phil pulled back, and it took a moment for him to open them again. Their noses were just inches apart, both of their heads still tilted to fit together. Phil sighed, his breath hot on Dan's skin.

Dan leaned forward for another kiss, but Phil turned his head. "What is it?" Dan whispered, anxiety seizing his throat. The TV behind him was black, leaving the expression on Phil's face a mystery in the dark, the song of the end credits playing beneath his heavy breath. 

"I... I just wanted to look at you," Phil said, his gaze flicking across Dan's face.

Dan could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and bent to kiss him, his lips parting as they met Phil's. Phil pushed himself up to sit beneath Dan, and Dan pressed him back into the headboard, pawing at the dorky Super-Man shirt that draped his figure. 

Phil's hands came to Dan's hips, softly tracing the skin between the hem of his shirt and the top of his pajamas. His fingers snaked beneath the fabric until they settled at Dan's waist, pulling him closer into Phil.

Dan let his mouth stray from Phil's, kissing across his cheek and neck, settling just beneath his jaw. He smiled as he heard Phil's breath hitch in his throat. His hand fell from Phil's cheek to his collar bone, tracing the hollow above it.

Phil's nails were digging between the notches of Dan's spine when he finally pulled away, mumbling something into Dan's chest.  
"What?" Dan asked, groggy as if he'd been suddenly woken from a dream.

"What time is it?" Phil repeated between heavy breaths, resting his forehead into the crook of Dan's neck. His brow was slick with sweat.

Dan shifted in Phil's lap to look at the digital clock on his nightstand. "3 am," he said, squinting at the red numbers in the dark. He could just see the curve of Phil's shoulder in the dim glow coming from them.

"We have to go to school tomorrow."

"Oh come on," Dan said. "We can ditch."

"And do what?" Asked Phil, a smile in his voice as he reached up to brush Dan's hair out of his eyes.

"This?" It came out as a breathy kind of laugh, deafeningly loud in the dark and quiet of Phil's room.

"Tell you what," Phil said. "We go to school tomorrow, then come back here afterward to do 'this' again."

"Tempting," said Dan. He pressed himself against Phil for one last kiss, then rolled off of him and curled up on his side of the bed. "I'll take you up on that," he said over his shoulder, pulling the covers over him.

Phil pressed a kiss to his temple then laid down beside him, nose digging into the nape of his neck, arm draped over his bare chest.

Even though his head was silent, Dan was too awake from the night to doze off. He focused on Phil's breath against his neck, playing through every moment leading up to then, drunk off the sensations. He assumed Phil was too because his hand was trembling where it rested, but Dan didn't want to move in case he really was sleeping.

This feeling, of being wholly in someone's arms, so weightless if he stood his feet wouldn't touch the ground. He wasn't used to this. An entire lifetime of lugging around secrets, only to shed all the weight in a single night with Phil. Phil was truly the cure to his powers, in every way. 

He didn't know how much time had passed when Phil pulled away, the bed creaking as he stood. Dan squinted at his silhouette in the hallway light as he opened the door. 'I just need one,' Phil's voice floated through Dan's head as he disappeared from the room. 

Dan counted the minutes as he waited for Phil to return. Having only two sets of murmuring sleep coming through the walls was infinitely better than having an entire apartment building crashing through your head, but he still itched for the silence that Phil gave him.

After a small forever, Phil stumbled back into the room to take his place next to Dan, lying in just about the same position he'd been in before he left. There were two glaring differences between before and after, however.

First, the unmistakable stench of alcohol coming from Phil's breath. Second, the trembling in his hand had fallen still.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's supposed to be another scene at the end but i can't figure out how to write it, but i thought i'd go ahead and post what i have.

Dan came home to find the heat back on, his dad nowhere to be found, and his mom sitting on the couch in a bright blue diner waitress uniform.

"I'm not gonna talk about it," she said, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. It had been weeks since Dan saw her with a book. 

Always walking into a room and seeing her whole face, not obscured by some paperback romance, her eyes glassy instead of darting across the page to absorb as much of the story as quickly as she could. It was jarring.

Dan didn't object. What would he say, anyway? How was it seeing your parents for the first time in almost 20 years?

As he made his way to his room, his mom called out that there were leftovers in the fridge if he got hungry. He didn't respond, just shut his door and collapsed onto his bed. For once, the buzz of voices in his head was welcome. He didn't want to deal with his own thoughts.

With his mind full of static, it was easier to forget his dad was gone and pretend he was just at work like he always was at this time of day. He could drown out the memory of the alcohol on Phil's breath and instead think of the way it felt on his neck, warming him and sending chills down his spine in tandem. When he shut his eyes, he could forget what he didn't want to see.  
He drifted to sleep like that, his mind anywhere but the present. It was in Phil's room last night, out in the woods looking at the stars, it even wandered to the back of Phil's car in the school parking lot. 

Anywhere but here, that's where Dan was.

The weeks went by with more soirées of "this," in school bathrooms, in Phil's car during their lunch hour, in empty classrooms if they thought they could risk it. Any spare moment they had alone was spent tangling their fingers into each other's hair. Dan spent more time at Phil's house than he did at his own, and with his mom working double shifts at the diner, she didn't notice or didn't care. And every moment he spent without Phil, he spent thinking of Phil, completely consuming his waking hours.

Dan liked it this way. They hadn't been on a real date since the dinosaur museum, but he didn't mind. It felt safe, being with Phil without anyone knowing. Sometimes people stared in the hallways at them a bit longer than they normally would, but Phil was too perfect for anyone to actually believe he was gay. That's how it seemed, anyway.

The sweet little bubble of secrecy burst when Phil texted Dan at 11 pm the night before the winter dance. Posters for it lined the halls, with big block letters that spelled out the date with icicles hanging from them. A flower stand was set up by the front entrance, a single rose for five dollars. Phil had gotten him one, pressing it into his hand before shoving him against the blue plastic a bathroom stall, but Dan thought it was a joke until he read the words lighting up his screen.

He should've never agreed to go, but he didn't want to disappoint Phil. And now, three hours before the dance started, he was tearing apart his closet looking for something to wear. He didn't own a suit. Or anything remotely nice for that matter. Article after article of black clothing ended up at his feet until he couldn't even see the carpet of his room. When the dance was only two hours away, he gave up hope and decided to call for help.

15 minutes later he was in a thrift store with Louise, the musty smell of old clothing and mothballs filling the air. Instead of an actual heating system, there was a heating fan that sat at the front of the room. It was warm if you stood in its path, but everywhere else in the store sent you shivering. The woman behind the counter wore a white shirt the shade of her curly hair that didn't even cover her arms, but if you walked by her you could hear the whir of another heater at her feet.

Louise had texted back in an instant when Dan asked for her help and she didn't flinch when she saw Dan's crumbling apartment. She didn't even think anything about it. She just showed up with her blonde hair pulled back into a fancy braid, one eyelid filled with burnt orange eye shadow and lined with a black wing of eyeliner, and the other one bare, and promised they'd find something in time.

"I think I'm too tall to find anything," Dan groaned, metal on metal screeching as he pushed the hangers across the bar. Black jacket after black jacket, all of them with sleeves that would barely rest halfway down his forearm. It was hard to be a giant when you were on a time crunch and a budget.

"Hush, you'll jinx us," Louise commanded from the other side of the store.

Dan hushed and headed over to another section of the store. More jackets hung on a circular metal rack, these different colors. There were only three in the large section: two beige and one bright pink.

He picked it up and held it over the front of his shirt. "What do you think of this?" He asked, doing a twirl.

"Try it on!"Louise said, laughing as Dan pulled the pink jacket over his shoulders. The bright pink fabric hit his wrists, but there was absolutely no way he'd make himself stand out this much at the dance. He was already going with Phil; people would be staring, he didn't want to make their job easier by wearing a neon sign of a jacket. He'd win the world records for easiest and gayest Where's Waldo in one night.

"I don't hate it," said Louise.

"It can be the backup plan," he said, pulling it off and hanging it back on the rack.

Louise came over to where Dan was to sift through the rack of black jackets as if there'd be something she and Dan had missed the first two times they searched.

"I didn't expect you to be the dancing type," she said, standing on her toes to look at the clothes folded high on a shelf. Dan had gone through them; they were all pants in different shades of corduroy fabric.

"Phil wanted to," he answered.

'Huh,' she remarked in her head, and Dan turned to look at her.

"That just doesn't sound like him," Louise said.

"How do you mean?"

She seems to think for a moment. "He's not really the kind of person to show off what he has." She plucked a sky blue dress off the rack and held it up herself. "It took a year of knowing him before he ever invited me to his house," she said, checking the neck of the dress for a price tag. "You must be special."

She looked up at him and smiled, but there was a sad tinge to it. 'Lucky,' was the only word that floated through her head.

"I'm trying this on." She dashed to the dressing room before Dan could say anything.

Dan watched her go. He didn't know what to say, and she clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he busied himself with looking through the jackets again and trying to push the last few minutes out of his mind. Some old song he vaguely recognized pumped through the store's speakers, and he focused on the tinny voice singing.

"Dan!" Louise came running out of the dressing room, stumbling over the hem of the dress as she did. She held a dark gray jacket out in front of her, the flaps of the collar a darker material shone in the over headlights. In her other hand, she held the ribbon of an untied bow tie between her fingers.

"You're trying this on," She said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to the mirrors in the back of the store. He has to watch his step to avoid the fabric of the dress that dragged on the floor behind Louise.

He slipped it on over the T-shirt he wore, then buttoned the front. It hugged his middle while the neck splayed wide over his shoulders, giving him the illusion of a V shape. His hair was a mess, there were bags under his eyes, and no suit could fix the tall and awkward frame he stared at in the dirty mirror at the back of the thrift store.

But he didn't hate it, and that was something.

"I'm a genius," Louise declared, stepping between Dan and the mirror. She tossed the bow tie at him, and he was barely able to catch it before it fluttered to the ground.

"Where did you find this?" Dan asked, wrapping the bow tie around his neck and tying it.

"Someone left it in the dressing room. Probably trying to hide it to grab it later." She beamed proudly.

"I'm glad you found that dress."

She did a quick twirl in the overlarge dress and sighed. "Not all of us were blessed with being a giant. I'm gonna change out of it," she said, then disappeared behind the off-white curtains of the dressing room.

Dan took the jacket off and put it back on the hanger before leaning against the wall as he waited for Louise. "Are you going with anyone, by the way?" He asked.

"Do you know Louis, from science?" She called.

He paused. "Louise and Louis?"

"I hate it too," she said, pushing the curtain open. "But he's the only guy who asked me."

Dan wanted to say something. Louise was one of the best people he knew, and he didn't know why others weren't seeing that, but they were all idiots. But he didn't know how to say that.

"Come on," she said, pushing past him and heading to the front of the store.

Dan fell in step behind her.

They went to the counter, and the cashier's eyes widened at Louise's makeup. "Is that what the kids are doing these days?" She asked, reaching for the jacket from Dan. Her gaze was on Louise as she laid it out to find the tag to scan.

Louise took a pair of earrings off a metal tree standing on the counter and threw them on top of the gray fabric along with her credit card. "Yeah, I think it'll go well with the jacket, don't you?" She said, suppressing a smile and tilting her head innocently.

The woman's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't say anything, but she thought all manner of things along the lines of 'The youth is ruining the world.'

It took everything in Dan to keep a straight face as Louise took the brown paper bag from the woman's wrinkled hands. "Have a nice day!" Louise gushed, then spun on her heel and went for the door.

They were halfway back to Dan's house when he realized what had happened. "Did you pay for my jacket?"

"Yep." She turned on her signal and slowed as she approached the turn.

"How much was it, let me pay you back," he said, digging through his pockets to grab his wallet.

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean no," she said, finally turning to face Dan. "I wanted to do something nice for you. Let me."

"Just let me pay for it," he insisted.

She sighed. "Think of it as an early birthday present."

"My birthday's in June."

"Really early birthday present."

"Louise," he said as the car pulled to a stop in front of his apartment. One glance up at the crumbling building confirmed his suspicions. "I don't want your pity," he mumbled.

"For the love of God, Dan, it isn't pity." She punched her thumb into the red button that released the seat belt. "Gift giving is my love language, let me give you gifts," she said, twisting to grab the bag out of the back seat.

She took her earrings out then shoved the brown paper into Dan's arms. It crinkled in his grasp.

"You have to promise not to get me a birthday present this year."

"Done," she said, and he finally opened the door to leave. "Dan?" She asked, stopping him as he stepped out of the car.

"Yes?"

"White shirt, black skinny jeans, dress shoes if you have them but Converse will look fine too." She buckled her seat belt and gripped the wheel with one hand, turning the engine back on with the other. "Bibbidy bobbidy boo," she added when he didn't leave, waving her hand as if casting a spell.

"You're the best Louise, you know that?" Asked Dan, leaning against the door of the car.

Her knuckles went white on the wheel, but the smile on her face was easy. "Go, Cindy. It's almost midnight."

He shut the door and her car started and skidded out of view.

The collar of his shirt was slowly tightening its hold on his neck as he made his way down the stairs. Half an hour with the flat iron and a quarter can of hairspray later he was sure his hair was as straight as it would ever be, and Louise was right about the outfit. Even with Converse, he looked surprisingly fashionable.

Still, something felt off. His heartbeat seemed to stammer in his throat with the rhythm of the flickering elevator lights.

Some of the anxiety eased when he made it to the car and Phil grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss before he'd even sat down. He propped his knee on the seat awkwardly, his hand finding the nape of Phil's neck easily as he used the other to balance himself on the dashboard. He'd learned to get in cars this way with Phil driving him everywhere.

Phil finally pulled away. He wore a navy tux, the full thing, that made his light eyes stand out. His hair that normally stuck up in all directions was brushed for once, forming a perfect fringe that didn't quite cover his eye.

He looked like he belonged at a cotillion, matching different forks to different courses and drinking tea with the queen. Not here, picking Dan up from the bad part of town to take him to a shitty high school dance.

"I love this jacket," said Phil, brushing the dark lapel through his fingers.

"Thanks," said Dan, his voice softer than he'd meant it to be. He cleared his throat. "Your suit looks really good."

The car jerked into motion and the heaters whirred to life right when he'd said it, and he almost thought his compliment had gotten lost in the sound, but he looked over and Phil was grinning like a goofball. Maybe not quite a cotillion.

"Do you know if Chris is going?" Asked Dan. The streetlights out the window sped by into bright streaks.

"Probably not," said Phil, casting a look at Dan. "His mom normally chaperones these things."

"Oh." So he and Phil would be the only gay couple there. With Pj and Chris the attention would be divided, but all eyes would be on him and Phil. 

Phil reached his hand across the center console to take Dan's hand, lacing their fingers. "Have you talked to Pj?" 

"Not yet." 

Phil nodded and squeezed Dan's hand. His hands were always so warm, like there was a fire burning beneath his skin. Which meant Dan's skin must feel like ice in Phil's grasp.

"Why are your hands always freezing?" Asked Phil, lifting Dan's hand to eye level. The tips of his fingers were the same shade as the veins snaking up his wrists as he squinted in the dim light.  
"Why are your hands always ovens?"

Phil paused, his gaze returning to the road. "It's perfect. Equilibrium."

"Wow, someone pays attention in science, good for you."

Phil laughed, his nose scrunching as the sound rang through the car. His hand tore from Dan's grasp as he launched the car into a turn, barely swerving into the parking lot of the school.  
Phil's head was on high alert, and his thoughts picked up every detail around them. The Honda they would've hit if it had been just a few feet closer to them, the lamp post he'd almost over-corrected his turn into, Dan in the passenger seat whipping around so he almost hit the window. He slammed on the break.

The seat belt pressed into Dan's chest as he jerked forward in his seat, squeezing the air from his chest like a boa constrictor. He could barely register any of it happening over the play-by-play screaming from Phil's mind, clouding out all of his own thoughts.

"Holy shit," Phil said, his eyes wide as he slowly accelerated the car. The only sound was the hum of the engine as he turned the car into a space at the very back of the lot, as far away from any other car as he could manage.

"I don't know why I let you drive us," said Dan, forcing a laugh out of his throat. It came out more of a wheeze.

The moment the car was parked Phil unbuckled his seat belt and turned to. "Are you okay?" he asked, laying his hands on Dan's shoulders to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about it," he said, shaking his head. Phil's thumb brushed his neck so he couldn't hear any thoughts, but guilt was plain in his face as his eyes flicked all across Dan as if looking for bruises.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Dan insisted, grabbing Phil's wrists to pry them away. "Seriously, don't worry about it, I've survived way worse car rides with you," he said, trying for a smile.

Phil didn't look convinced, but he dropped it. "Okay," he said finally, then went back to his side of the car to open the door and step outside, circling to Dan's side to open the passenger door.

"M'lady," he said, the smallest smile on his face as he held out his hand to help Dan from the car.  
He laughed and took it. "Thanks."

Hand in hand, they made the long walk from the back of the parking lot to the front of the school. Cheap blue streamers were haphazardly strung over the door, and an obviously hand-painted banner flapped in the wind so Dan couldn't even read the words. He tried to suppress his shivers against the bite of the cold.

The rush of artificial heat as they opened the door was relieving only for a moment because then Dan saw that Mrs. Kendall was the one taking tickets at the front door. He released Phil's hand, but her eyes had already darted to them behind her glasses.  
She tapped her long nails against the white plastic of the folding table she sat at.

Phil cleared his throat as he approached, digging into his coat pocket for the tickets. "I have both of ours," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, and laid them on the table. 

Beneath his clenched jaw and wickedly straight spine, Dan could hear the anxiety rumbling in his head.

She didn't say anything as she plucked the tickets up and clipped the corners with a hole punch. "Be appropriate," she said, handing the tickets back to Phil and waving the next couple to the table.

Dan nearly ran from the table, but Phil kept his strides smooth as he went, so Dan was forced to slow down to keep up. 

The wave of heat that had been a comfort a few minutes before quickly turned sour as they entered the gym. The air was stuffy with so many people packed into the space, bouncing to the top 40s playlist. The thoughts of everyone pounded into Dan's skull.

"Let's find Louise," Phil shouted over the noise, the back of his hand brushing against Dan's. A moment's silence before the wave of noise crashes back into him. 

Half of the bleachers stacked to the wall were decorated, making one a myriad of wintry streamers on one side, and the red and black school colors on full display with the other. They skirted around the crowd looking for her, and Dan brushed his fingers against the rough paper hanging from the wall. 

They finally found her, standing by the obligatory punch bowl with a red solo cup, wearing a navy dress almost the exact shade of Phil's suit. She waved them over, a grin spreading across her face.

"Phil! You totally copied my outfit!" She turned to Dan, her eyes lingering on his shoes for a moment longer than the rest of him. "Dan, you look great."

"You too," said Dan. He couldn't help but feel the smallest pang of jealousy. If someone looked their way, Phil and Louise would look like the couple. He was glad that he was blending into the crowd, looking like a third wheel instead of a queer, but at the same time, he didn't like having to hide.

"I've had this tux for three years, how long have you had that dress?"

"Three and a half," she shouted back, a smug look on her face as she took another sip. 

"Lies," Phil declared, but Louise shrugged her bare shoulders.

Dan couldn't catch if she was really lying or not over the noise in his head. "Where's Louis?" No one else was near the punch bowl, and Dan didn't see him in the nearby crowd either. 

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated movement. "We took one picture and he disappeared." Dan could've sword her grip on the cup strengthened, denting the red plastic. "He paid for my ticket though, so I still win."

Dan laughed, but to his dismay, he caught her next thought. 'He left with a prettier girl.'

Dan searched her eyes for a trace of what he'd heard, but she was hiding it well behind her shining smile. The song changed, and she grabbed his wrist. "Come on!" She pulled him out to the middle of the crowd, pushing through the walls of elbows and shoulders jutting into them. "We're dancing."

Dan looked back at Phil to rescue him, but Phil was too busy laughing as he was dragged away.  
Louise twisted to the music, her skirt splaying out and brushing the legs of everyone in her radius, her eyes shut as she got lost in the music. Dan couldn't believe that this girl, the one dancing in the middle of her entire school like it was nothing, was as insecure as her thoughts let on. 

"You're not even trying," she yelled, and she grabbed Dan's wrists and force him to move with her. When he awkwardly bopped to the beat, she shook her head, clearly not satisfied with that. She raised her arm for him to twirl under, and he had to duck to make it. 

Louise laughed as he completed the twirl, covering her mouth with a manicured hand. Dan took a faux bow and started back to the punch table, but Louise grabbed him before he could escape. "One song," she insisted, so he stayed and did his best not to step on anyone's feet as he tried his best to dance. 

The song ended, and after a few seconds filled with chatter and shoes scuffing against the gym floor, a slower beat took its place. Phil pushed through the crowd, appearing behind Louise to tap her on the shoulder. "May I cut in?"

"Of course," she said, patting Dan on the shoulder as she pushed past him to leave the dance floor. She had to stretch to reach his shoulder, and he couldn't help but chuckle as she melted back into the crowd.

"Is this okay?" Phil asked, leaning close to Dan's ear so he didn't have to shout. Dan nodded, and Phil's hand slipped into his, the other one snaking around his waist to the small of his back. 

They stepped in time to the music, looking straight at each other. They'd touched hundreds of times before, danced, laid in bed for entire nights entwined and talking for hours, but Phil's fingers were rigid against his back. Dan thought he still felt guilty about the driving mishap, but then he felt it too.

There were eyes on them. Dan couldn't hear their thoughts with Phil's hand in his, but the unmistakable feeling that they were on display couldn't be shaken. He snuck a glance away and made eye contact with a girl he didn't know. She didn't seem disgusted, hostile, or anything like that. She just stared behind her copper curls, even after Dan held her gaze for a while.  
He forced himself to look away, but still felt her stare. Felt everyone's stare. 

The song faded and was replaced by another upbeat pop song he didn't know. "I need some air," Dan said, pushing past Phil through the rest of the crowd. He nearly doubled over as the thoughts crashed back into him, all filled with him and Phil. No one could believe Phil was gay, that he'd taken Dan to the dance, that they would dare to do something so bold in front of everyone. Like dancing together was a statement, instead of a dumb high school experience. 

The cool air was a relief when it hit his skin, the cement walls separating him from the thoughts of the gym an even bigger one. He sat down on the curb, drinking in the night air as he looked out at the parking lot.

It was so much nicer that night they were alone, him and Phil sitting in the back of his car, watching the clouds. Now with the parking lot full, windshields glistening under the streetlights, the school teeming with people who had just seen them dance together, and their heads full with judgments.

He let out a puff of white air. Nothing could drag him back into the dance. He'd rather freeze out here than return.

"You left your ticket inside," said Phil, nudging Dan's leg with his shoe, "They wouldn't let you back in without it," he said, sitting down on the curb. He balanced the little cardstock rectangle on Dan's knee.

He chuckled sourly as it tipped over and fluttered to the ground. 

"You okay?" Phil asked, leaning back on his hands, his head turned to the glow of the streetlights obscuring the dark sky. 

Dan nodded, but his throat was swelling. As a kid, with Chris, he felt so afraid. He thought one day he'd just be a spot on the bottom of Chris' boot, or if he survived, that there would be a bigger, meaner Chris to take his place. 

Here he felt like an outsider. He was trapped looking in while everyone else was inside having fun, and if he returned, he wouldn't really be a part of them. Empty parking lot or gym full of people, he was alone.

He leaned back on his hands to look up with Phil. No clouds, no stars.

Phil's hand closed over his, the only warmth he had from the chill of the wind. "I'm sorry," he said.

Dan turned to look at him, dumbfounded. "For what?"

"I just thought," he started, but trailed away. His pale skin was red at the nose and the corners of his eyes. His face always showed everything, the weather, his emotions. 

But Dan couldn't read him now. There was too much, not enough. A dictionary or a blank slate, he couldn't decide.

"Thought what?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He shook his head and sat up straight, folding his hands into his lap.

And now Dan could hear it. Everything that was going through Phil's mind, just how aware he was of the hundreds of eyes staring at them.

"They were all staring," Dan said, his voice lilting as he realized what was going on.

His shoulders heaved with a breath as if he was moving water with his lungs instead of air. "I'm around you so much," he said, reaching to pluck the discarded ticket from the ground. He folded it in half the long way, the color cracking at the crease. "I forget, you know? I forget how it actually is."

Dan looked up at him. "They were all staring, weren't they?"

Dan nodded. He forgot all the time, and reality came crashing back in. When he hears a casual slur in the halls, when instinct reminds him to pull away from Phil when he hears someone coming. When his mom asks why he's been smiling more and he can't tell her why.

"Me too," he said finally, reaching out for Phil's hand. He considered holding back, listening for a bit longer to try to understand Phil better, but somehow this felt right. Trying to comfort instead of having all the answers.

A group of girls stumbled out of the front door, their laughs ringing loud, their heels in their hands, their feet bare on the sidewalk. The bright greens and yellows of their dresses drew Dan's eyes away from the empty sky as they fall into each other, holding themselves up against the pull of gravity and drunken clumsiness.

One of them waved, the others didn't notice, and they all piled into a silver pickup truck that sped down the street and disappeared. 

"Let's go find Louise," Dan said as their car sped away into the night.

"Okay," said Phil, handing him the bent ticket.

By some stroke of luck, Mrs. Kendall was no longer at the table, and they flash their tickets and return to the dance without issue. 

Louise is leaning against the streamer free half of the wall, her frown illuminated by the light from her cell phone. The light goes dark when she sees them, but her expression remains the same. "Where'd you go?" she asked, shoving her phone into a pocket Dan didn't realize the dress had. 

"Fresh air," Phil said, his voice almost too quiet to hear above the noise.

"If you're going back to the dance floor watch out," she said, gesturing across the room. Mrs. Kendall stood on top of the stage next to the guy with a Mac book they'd hired for music, her arms crossed as she leered over the crowd. "Kendall has a yardstick that only applies to Hetty and Reese, apparently," she said. 

Something caved in Dan's chest as Phil took the smallest step away from him. 

"We could skip straight to the after-party," Dan suggested, shrugging. If he were braver, he'd pull Phil back onto the dance floor, show everyone that they didn't care how many people were staring at them. But Phil obviously did care, and Dan wasn't brave. "I think that girl Dodie in your neighborhood."

"Did she even come?" Louise asked, leaning toward them to hear better.

"No, she never comes, but she throws the biggest party every year," Phil said, casting a glance at the door. He looked anxious to get out of here. "Starts it at 8 o'clock sharp."

"You know her?" Asked Dan, tilting his head. He'd heard about her often, but never actually gotten to talk to her.

"Friend of a friend," he answered. "Come on, let's go. Do you want to bring your date, Louise?"

"Nope," she said simply, on their heels and heading toward the door. "And I call shotgun."


	11. Chapter Ten and a Half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is another scene that was supposed to go at the end of chapter ten, i finally finished it! also if you're looking for lesbian anime recs watch in bloom, it is so cute i love it so much

The party wasn't quite in full swing when they arrived. People floated from the kitchen to the living room with solo cups, others lounged couches with their arms around each other, a mix of jeans and dresses against the yellowing shag carpet. Indie music dozed beneath the hum of chatter, and footsteps from upstairs vibrating the ceiling and windowpanes. 

"I need some inebriation, you guys want anything?" Louise asked, pulling at the bobby pins holding up her braid. A section of her blonde hair fell to her shoulders and she worked to free another.

"I'm good, thanks," said Phil.

Dan looked up at him, searching his face for a moment. This was the first time he'd seen Phil refuse a drink. "Me too," said Dan, and she made her way into the kitchen. 

Phil took Dan's hand and squeezed it, silencing Dan's head. His lips pressed into a tight smile, looking more doctored than outright fake.

Dan traced the line of Phil's jaw with his fingertip. Maybe they could find a dark corner or an abandoned bedroom. Loosen Phil up without any mind-altering substances. 

"Hey, Phil," came a deep voice behind them, and Phil jerked himself away. 

Dan almost thought he imagined it, with all the noise around him, but Phil's eyes lit up when he saw the guy in front of him, and all his stiffness seemed to evaporate. The stocky build of a football player towered over both of them and threatened to burst the seams of his blue muscle shirt. "Vic!" said Phil, leaning in for a hug and clapping him on the back.

"Who's this," he asked after pulling away, raking a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"My friend, Dan," said Phil, casting a quick look in Dan's direction. 

Dan couldn't tell if it was an apology or a plea. "Yep! I'm his friend," he choked, plastering on what he hoped was a friendly expression. "And who are you?"

"The same," he laughed, holding out his hand.

Dan wondered if Vic could feel his hand shaking in his grip.

Vic looked between the two of them, hesitating for the moment. His mind drifted over the thought, about to make the connection between them. But a new memory floated to the surface. Dan heard the scraps of a long-ago conversation as Vic's attention turned back to Phil.

"It's been forever, hasn't it?" He asked, grinning.

"Yeah, I'd love to catch up," said Phil, looking back at Dan.

"Go ahead," he insisted. "I'll find Pj." He nudged Phil's shoulder, feeling a twinge of guilt as his jaw went slack. Maybe he should've said another name.

All remorse faded when Phil composed himself in an instant, attention turned back to Vic, not a single thought was in Dan's direction anymore. If he could shed Dan like he was a jacket, throwing him aside as he pleased, Dan could mess with Phil a little bit. Maybe he'd even get drunk, show Phil how it feels.

His plan fell apart when he actually saw Pj. He sat on the couch under Chris's arm, talking to another guy standing in front of them. He shook as he laughed.

Dan froze in the middle of the room, acutely aware of people milling about him, bumping his shoulder. The song changed to one he was sure he'd heard before, but couldn't quite place. Someone skipped halfway through, and another indie darling filled the space around him.

The guy they were talking to left, and Dan's feet led him over there.  
The smile remained on Pj's face, but his lips stretched like long worn clothing that didn't quite fit anymore. "What's up?"

They fit together like a puzzle, Pj's normally bright wardrobe swapped for the grays and browns Chris always wore. He couldn't help but wonder whose clothes were whose.

Chris didn't waver as they looked between them. "Hey, Dan," he said, squeezing Pj closer into his chest. "Thanks for being his wing-man, it really worked out." He sat easily, nearly sinking into the back of the couch like if it wasn't there he'd simply drip to the floor in a puddle.

Pj was a bit tenser as he said, "Yeah, thanks."

"Can I borrow him for a sec?" Dan asked Chris.

"He's all yours," said Chris, patting Pj on the back and beaming. "I'll save you a seat," he said in Pj's ear, so low under the hum of the music Dan nearly couldn't hear it.

"Thanks," he mumbled back, then stood and followed Dan as he zigzagged through the people to a less crowded hallway. He didn't stop until he was at the end, leaning against the frame of a door, the knob digging into his side. 

The overhead lights were off in the hall, and he could only see from the living room light spilling in. Pj shoved his hands deep into his pockets and leaned to look in the direction they came from as if judging an escape route. 

Dan didn't know what to say. They went from best friends to complete strangers. He barely recognized the person standing across from him now, his head filled with humming to shut him out.

"What is it?" he mumbled after the silence stretched on too long.

"How long are you gonna be mad?" He asked, willing Pj to look at him. 

He only shrugged, blowing out a breath, still staring down the hall. "It's not that I'm mad, just..." He paused, his hand rising to a chain around his throat Dan hadn't noticed before. Chris floated above the humming in Pj's mind, like a comfort blanket he was holding onto. "You're in my head all the time, it freaks me out."

"Nothing's changed, it's always been this way," said Dan, reaching for his shoulder. "Really, it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," he snapped, ducking from Dan's touch.

Dan pulled his hand away as if he'd been burned. 

Pj softened and finally looked at Dan. "That's how you knew, isn't it?" He asked, laughing. It was humorless. "I thought I just wasn't hiding the bruises well enough, but you heard me thinking about it."

Dan gulped and nodded. It was suddenly too hot, under his thrifted jacket, sweat seemed to crawl down his neck like a colony of ants. He resisted the urge to pull at his collar. "I just wanted to protect you."

"Yeah," Pj breathed. "It's just a lot." 

The silence stretched, more people piled into the room, blocking the glow pouring down the hall. The dance must've ended. "Will it ever be okay?" he asked, mumbling, almost hoping Pj wouldn't hear. If the answer was no, maybe it wouldn't be so hard. If everyone he loved walked out on him at once, he'd grow some scar tissue. 

"I'm not sure yet," said Pj.

Dan pressed his lips into a thin line.

Neither of them spoke until Pj left to return to the party. 

Dan slumped down the wall to a seat, watching what he could see of the room. His eyes focused on Louise, leaning against the wall, laughing up at a guy Dan didn't know. She gestured wildly as she spoke, her hair bouncing around her. 

How would Louise react, if she knew everything he'd heard today? Maybe she couldn't look at him the same knowing he was holding onto every insecurity she ever had, just trying not to let it slip. Maybe he'd lose every friend he'd ever had if they found out he knew their deepest secrets.

He pulled his knees into his chest, resting his flushed cheek against the bare skin of his knee peeking through the rips in his jeans. If Pj reacted that way to his power, what would Phil say?

He'd leave too. Dan was sure of it. 

"This is no way to spend a party," a girl he didn't recognize said, seeming to appear out of nowhere. Her head tilted to the side as she stared down at him, showing the glitter that dusted her cheeks. A bright yellow dress swayed about her.

"I got ditched."

"Mind if I join you?" She asked, sitting down next to him without waiting for a response, stretching her legs out in front of her. If she flexed her toes they brushed the wall ahead of them, bright lacy socks on her ankles. 

"I suppose."

She hummed the melody buzzing from the party and leaned her head back against the wall to look up at the ceiling. 'Just tell him,' she urged in her head, and Dan couldn't help but flick his gaze in her direction.

'I knew it,' she sang in her head, and she was already speaking before Dan could wonder what she meant. "It can get kind of lonely, with all those voices in your head." He gaped at her, and she turned to meet his gaze. "Don't you think?"

"What do you mean?" 

Her gaze was piercing as her dark eyes narrowed at him. 'This is what I mean,' she thought clearly.

He blinked, barely registering what was happening. "How did you?" he asked, voice trailing off. 

"Because I can too," she said simply. She brushed a dark lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just flipped Dan's entire world on its head. He wasn't alone.

"I've never met anyone else who can do it," he said, dumbfounded. 

"Yeah, well, we're pretty few and far between." She smoothed a yellow wrinkle in her dress. "Everyone thinks they're the only one until they find another."

"You know others?" He asked, his blood running cold. The gravity of what she was saying was finally setting in.

He wasn't alone.

"One," she said. "I knew one."

Dan didn't ask her what she meant. He could already hear a voice bubbling to the forefront of her consciousness, the beep of a heart rate monitor below the deep timbre. The words 'goodbye' and 'I love you' echoed about her skull in the man's voice. 

'I'm sorry,' Dan thought, unable to say the words aloud.

She shook her head, the hair she'd tucked behind her ear obscuring her face once again. "I just love parties, don't you?" She stared out at the room, her head filling with songs Dan didn't know, scenes from movies he'd never seen. The man's voice faded into the background. "It's like people watching, but better."

"I can't stand it," said Dan. "All that noise."

"Then you'll love this," she said, placing her hand over his on the shag carpet. 

Every thought in his head vanished, and Dan's jaw hit the ground for a second time. 

'Now it's just us,' she thought, her voice ringing in Dan's head.

A new wave of shock set over him. If this is what happened when two mind readers touched, then what did that make Phil? 

"Who's Phil?" She asked, pulling her hand away. The noise of the party crashed back into Dan all at once, but he was so lost in thought he barely noticed.

"My boyfriend." A tension headache sprouted from his temples, slithering across his forehead until it was all he could focus on. The carpet was as course as rope beneath his hand, scratching as if it could tear through his skin.

"And?" She asked, brows furrowed as she waited for an answer. 

He met her gaze. "He blocks the thoughts like you do," he said, tripping over the words. "But I can't hear him think when we touch. It's just silence."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

Dan nodded. "What does that mean?" 

She shook her head, but a smile was growing on her face. "I've never heard of that." Thoughts streaked through her mind too fast for Dan to pick up. "Can I meet him?"

"I, I don't know, he's kind of busy now." He could almost see Vic towering over him, and he noticed the girl's face shift in sympathy. "Maybe I should find him," he said, pushing himself to stand.

"Wait," she said, grabbing his wrist and using it to pull herself to stand. Everything went silent except for the excited questions swirling in her voice, her brown eyes shimmering in the dim light coming from the living room. "Give me your phone, I'll put my number in."

"Why?" He asked, pulling away. Her thoughts faded into the rest of the crowd. 

"It's nice not to be alone in this," she said. She held out her hand for his phone. "Trust me."

He handed it over, shoving his hands in his pockets as she typed.

"Follow me," she said, giving it back then pushing past him to cut through the crowd. 

He realized he'd never caught her name when he looked down and saw the contact labeled "Dodie Clark." He started after her, weaving through the shoulders and solo cups. 

"King's Cup in the living room, grab your booze," she yelled into the kitchen, holding onto the door frame and spinning on her heel into the room, dark hair fanning around her. A moment later she reappeared with two bright red cups. 

"No thanks," he said, holding up his hands.

"It's ginger ale," she said with a wink, clearly pleased when he took the drink from her. She waved for him to sit then darted to the front door to yell at everyone outside about the game. 

He stood there as people started making an abomination of a circle in the middle of the room, then spotted Phil coming inside, his jacket slung over one shoulder. Dan waved him over.

"Hey, I need to talk to you," Dan said, pulling at his sleeve, brushing his hand. The silence was welcome after everything he'd just learned. "Where's Vic?"

"He's still outside," he said. "Let's talk after, the game's starting," he said, gesturing to the circle with his cup.

Dan caught a glance inside, and it was clear liquid. He couldn't tell if it was water or vodka, but he hoped it was the former. 

"Besides," Phil continued, looking over Dan's shoulder. "We have to stick around for Louise."

Dan looked behind him to see Louise and her guy sitting on the floor, Louise grinning as she leaned on his shoulder. A knot loosened in his chest. She deserved to be happy, after everything she did for them, everything that happened to her today. 

He let Phil drag him to the circle, hands entwined. He couldn't ignore Dodie's stare, but she'd just have to wait a little while. Maybe he could text her later, introduce Phil and her at school. 

Louise was five or six people away, and she waved as they passed, wiggling her fingers. Dan smiled back at her.

"Alright, everyone, shut up," Dodie yelled, resting on her knees and holding up a pack of cards. "The first card... 3 is me," she said, holding it out to the crowd like a magic trick. She took a drink from her cup and passed the deck to the next person. 

Dan had already taken three sips by the time the cards got to Phil. He set his drink down to take the cards, holding tight to Dan's hand. A spark lighted in his chest, though he was sure Phil's leg was blocking their hands from the rest of the group. 

"Four, what does for mean?" He asked, holding out the card in Dodie's direction. 

"Ladies!" She announced, raising the cup in cheers.

Phil passed the deck to Dan, and he drew a seven. Before he even held up the card, Dodie had raised her hand to the sky, and a few others followed suit. Dan shot his arm into the air before he could even register what was happening. 

Louise's guy was too busy staring at her to notice and ended up the last to raise his hand. Louise giggled as he drank. 

With a few more cards and a few more sips, the deck had made a full round back to Dodie. 

"Eight is mate," she said, holding up the card. She tapped her chin as she looked about the room, deciding who to choose. "How about..." she said, but Dan already knew who she was going to choose. "Dan."

She stood up, smoothing out her dress, then crossed the circle to squeeze between him and the girl to his left.

"You don't have to move for that card," someone called to her.

"Whatever, Jack, it makes it easier to keep track of," she shouted back. 

She handed the cards to the girl beside her, then turned. "Hey, I'm Dodie," she said to Phil.

"What does 8 mean?" Dan asked, shrinking away from her.

"Drink when I drink," she said. A four was called, and she took a drink, gesturing to Dan's cup.

He took a sip of the ginger ale. 

"You're Dodie, right?" Phil asked, leaning around Dan. 

"Yeah, and you are?" She asked, holding her hand out.

"Phil, nice to meet you." He shook it.

Dan studied her, but nothing seemed to change on her face. She pulled her hand away and tapped her painted nails on the side of her drink, looking across to see where the cards had ended up.

"Two, Dodie," someone called from across the room.

She drained the rest of her drink. "I need another, come with?" She said, gesturing for Dan to follow.

He looked over at Phil, who didn't look bothered as he pulled his hand away. Dan blinked, but not a single hint of jealousy appeared on his face or in his head.

Dan bit the inside of his cheek. Did Phil trust him enough that he didn't care, or did he just not care to begin with?

He kissed Phil's cheek and stood to follow Dodie into the kitchen.

"I didn't work," she said, splashing coconut rum into her cup and tossing it back.

"What do you mean?"

She puckered her lips at the taste, pouring out more. "I mean he didn't block anything for me." 

"Really?"

She set down her drink and pushed herself up onto the counter. "Yeah, I couldn't hear your thoughts while you wear touching, either." She twisted to grab her drink. "He was shielding you both ways." She tilted it to her lips as she spoke, and the cup caught the sound like her voice was in a tunnel.

"What does that mean?" He asked reaching for the bottle of ginger ale.

"Beats me," she said, kicking her legs in front of her. "Do you want me to spike your ginger ale this time?"

Before he could answer, Phil burst into the kitchen, his ears and neck scorched pink with fever.

"What is it?" The ginger ale fell from Dan's hand, forgotten, as he rushed forward to meet Phil.

"Outside," was all he managed to choke. He tried to say more, gestured wildly, but turned to run before anything came out. The word 'Louise' circled around and around his mind, like a panther circling its prey, threatening to strike and take him down.

Dodie must have heard it too, and it was a strange kind of camaraderie. They got to share this panic that no one else could touch. 

They made it outside to the chill of the air, Dodie standing on the grass in her socks. Dan blinked to adjust to the streetlamps, but he could see Louise was completely limp in Vic's arms, dark fabric pooling around her.

He froze and movement was all around him. The party continued behind him. Dodie ran to brush away the hair that clung to Louise's lipstick. Phil was sprinting to get the car he'd parked near the end of the street. Vic was carrying her in that direction, whispering in her ear. Coaxing her awake or trying to comfort her. Dan couldn't tell.   
Only he and Louise were still. 

Dan couldn't sit still now, and he paced the ER lobby as he waited for the doctor to come back. From the stack of bright yellow magazines, across the speckled tile, to the water cooler with cone paper cups. Magazine, tile, cups. Again, and again, and again. 

It was all he could do to try to keep the thoughts out of his head. Dodie and Vic refused to leave until Louise was awake, so he was stuck fighting off two more heads. He couldn't stand Dodie barraging his mind, begging him to sit down. That she or Phil could block his thoughts if he'd only let them. Vic was just a rumble beneath the other voices, his head jumping from topic to topic too quick for Dan to pick up on.

And Phil. He dissected every moment from the party, turning over the choices he made. How he could've stopped what happened if he'd stayed with Louise instead of going off with Vic. If he'd skipped the dance altogether, got them together to do something else. 

Dodie had taken to singing the alphabet in her head as loud as she could, both to get Dan to give in and to distract herself from what was happening. Three rounds in, he broke and took the chair next to Phil.

Phil's guilt wasn't relenting, but Dan couldn't bring himself to reach over and block out the noise. Phil stopped her before she left, and then she collapsed. If it wasn't for Phil, it would've happened in the guy's car instead of on the front lawn. He'd saved her.

But if Dan hadn't been using Phil as a shield, he could've heard it happening and stopped it. He was too wrapped up in Pj, in Dodie, in Phil. He shouldered the blame of this, no one else.

Maybe this was what the mind-reading was for. Not for hoarding secrets, but stopping disasters like tonight. He could deal with the noise, the headaches, the secrets, all of it. But he'd never let this happen again. 

Dan's knuckles were going white on the armrest when Phil finally reached out to hold his hand. 

He pulled away.


End file.
